O~^  £ 


[See  p    157 

'"LOOK!     LOOK!     THERE  BY  THOSE  LITTLE  BUSHES!'" 


SANTA   FE'S 
PARTNER 


THOMAS  A.  JANVIER 


AUTHOR  OF 

"THE    PASSING  OF   THOMAS  " 

"  THE  UNCLE  OF  AN  ANGEL  " 

ETC. 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 
NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 


COPYRIGHT,    1907.    BY    HARPER   &    BROTHERS 


PRINTED    IN   THE   UNITED   STATES   OF   AMERICA 


TO 
C.  A.  J. 


Contents 

CHAP.  PAQ, 

I.  PALOMITAS r 

II.  THE  SAGE-BRUSH  HEN 15 

III.  HART'S  NEPHEW'S  HOLD-UP 44 

IV.  SANTA  FE  CHARLEY'S  KINDERGARTEN  .    .  77 

V.  BOSTON'S  LION-HUNT 127 

VI.  SHORTY  SMITH'S  HANGING 163 

VII.  THE  PURIFICATION  OP  PALOMITAS    ,  208 


Illustrations 

'"LOOK!  LOOK!  THERE  BY  THOSE  LITTLE 

BUSHES!'" Frontispiec* 

"HER  LEFT  HAND  WAS  LAYING  IN  HER  LAP, 

AND  THE  OLD  GENT  GOT  A-HOLD  OF  IT*'   Facing  p.    22 

"WROTE  OUT  A  NOTICE  THAT  WAS  TACKED 

UPON  THE  DEEPO  DOOR*' "        84 

"'ONE  OF  THE  NEW  GERMAN  KINDERGAR 
TEN  APPLIANCES'" "  120 

"STARING  'ROUND  THE  PLACE  SAME  AS  IF 

HE'D  STRUCK  A  MENAGERIE"  ...  "  132 

"'IT'S    HOTTER     THAN     SAHARA!'     SAID    THE 

ENGLISHMAN" "      166 

"AND  DOWN  HART  WENT  IN  A  HEAP  ON  THE 

FLOOR" "       196 

"'DON'T   HANG   HIM,    SIR!'   SHE    GROANED 

OUT"  .  "      224 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 


i 

PALOMITAS 

'VE  been  around  considera 
ble  in  the  Western  Country — 
mostly  some  years  back — and 
I've  seen  quite  a  little,  one 
way  and  another,  of  the  folks 
living  there:  but  I  can't  really  and  truly 
say  I've  often  come  up  with  them  nature's 
noblemen  —  all  the  time  at  it  doing  stunts 
in  natural  nobility  —  the  story-books  make 
out  is  the  chief  population  of  them  parts. 
Like  enough  the  young  fellers  from  the 
East  who  write  such  sorts  of  books  —  hav 
ing  plenty  of  spare  time  for  writing,  while 
they're  giving  their  feet  a  rest  to  get 
l 


Fe's    Partner 


come  across  em,  same  as 
they  say  they  do;  but  I  reckon  the  herd's  a 
small  one — and,  for  a  fact,  if  you  could  cross 
the  book  brand  with  the  kind  you  mostly 
meet  on  the  ranges  the  breed  would  be 
improved. 

Cow-punchers  and  prospectors  and  such 
don't  look  like  and  don't  act  like  what  ten 
derfoots  is  accustomed  to,  and  so  they  size 
'em  up  to  be  different  all  the  way  through. 
They  ain't.  They're  just  plain  human  nat 
ure,  same  as  the  rest  of  us  —  only  more  so, 
through  not  being  herded  close  in.  About 
the  size  of  it  is,  most  folks  needs  barbed  wire 
to  keep  'em  from  straying.  In  a  rough  coun 
try — where  laws  and  constables  ain't  met 
with  frequent  —  a  good-sized  slice  of  the 
population  's  apt  to  run  wild.  With  them 
that's  white,  it  don't  much  matter.  The 
worst  you  can  say  against  'em  is,  they  some 
times  do  a  little  more  shooting  than  seems 
really  needed;  but  such  doings  is  apt  to 
have  a  show  of  reason  at  the  bottom  of  'em, 
and  don't  happen  often  anyhow — most  being 
satisfied  to  work  off  their  high  spirits  some 


Palomitas 

other  way.  With  them  that's  not  white, 
things  is  different.  When  the  Apache  streak 
gets  on  top  it  sends  'em  along  quick  into 
clear  deviltry — the  kind  that  makes  you 
cussed  just  for  the  sake  of  cussedness  and 
not  caring  a  damn;  and  it's  them  that  has 
give  some  parts  of  the  Western  Country — 
like  it  did  New  Mexico  in  the  time  I'm  talk 
ing  about,  when  they  was  bunched  thick 
there — its  bad  name. 

In  the  long  run,  of  course,  the  toughs  is 
got  rid  of — being  shoved  out  or  hung  out,  at 
first  by  committees  and  later  on  in  regular 
shape  by  sheriffs  and  marshals — and  things 
is  quieted  down.  It's  the  everlasting  truth, 
though,  that  them  kind  of  mavericks  mostly 
is  a  blame  sight  commoner  in  parts  just 
opened  than  the  story-book  kind — that's  al 
ways  so  calm-eyed  and  gentle-natured  and 
generous  and  brave.  What's  more,  I  reckon 
they'll  keep  on  being  commoner,  human  nat 
ure  not  being  a  thing  that  changes  much,  till 
we  get  along  to  the  Day  of  Judgment  round 
up — and  the  goats  is  cut  out  and  corralled 
for  keeps. 

3 


Santa    Fe's  Partner 

For  certain,  it  was  goats  was  right  up  at 
the  head  of  the  procession  in  the  Territory 
in  my  time — which  was  the  time  when  the 
railroads  was  a-coming  in — and  in  them  days 
things  was  rough.  The  Greasers  living  there 
to  start  with  wasn't  what  you  might  call 
sand-papered;  and  the  kind  of  folks  found 
in  parts  railroads  has  just  got  to,  same  as 
I've  mentioned,  don't  set  out  to  be  extry 
smooth.  Back  East  they  talked  about  the 
higher  civilization  that  was  overflowing  New 
Mexico;  but,  for  a  cold  fact,  the  higher 
civilization  that  did  its  overflowing  on  that 
section  mostly  had  a  sheriff  on  its  tracks 
right  along  up  to  the  Missouri — and  the  rest 
of  the  way  done  what  it  blame  felt  like,  and 
used  a  gun. 

Some  of  them  native  Mexicans  wasn't  bad 
fighters.  When  they  went  to  hacking  at  one 
another  with  knives — the  way  they  was  used 
to — they  often  done  right  well.  But  when 
they  got  up  against  the  higher  civilization — 
which  wasn't  usually  less  'n  half  drunk,  and 
went  heeled  with  two  Colt's  and  a  Winchester 
— they  found  out  they'd  bit  off  more'n  they 

4 


Palomitas 

could  chew.  Being  sandy,  they  kept  at  it — 
but  the  civilizers  was  apt  to  have  the  call. 
And  in  between  times,  when  the  two  of  'em — 
the  Greasers  and  the  civilizers — wasn't  tak 
ing  the  change  out  of  each  other,  they  both 
of  'em  took  it  out  of  anybody  who  happened 
to  come  along. 

Yes,  sirree! — in  them  days  things  was  a 
good  deal  at  loose  ends  in  the  Territory. 
When  you  went  anywheres,  if  you  was  going 
alone,  you  always  felt  you'd  better  leave 
word  what  trail  you  took :  that  is,  if  you  was 
fussy  in  such  matters,  and  wanted  what  the 
coyotes  left  of  you  brought  in  by  your 
friends  and  planted  stylish — with  your  name, 
and  when  it  happened,  painted  on  a  board. 

This  place  where  the  track  got  stuck — 
sticking  partly  because  there  was  trouble 
with  the  Atchison,  and  partly  because  the 
Company  couldn't  for  close  onto  a  year  jag 
any  more  out  of  the  English  stockholders  to 
build  on  with — was  up  on  a  bluff  right  over 
the  Rio  Grande  and  was  called  Palomitas. 
Being  only  mostly  Greasers  and  Indians  liv- 
5 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

ing  in  the  Territory — leaving  out  the  white 
folks  at  Santa  Fe  and  the  army  posts,  and 
the  few  Germans  there  was  scattered  about — 
them  kind  of  queer-sounding  names  was  what 
was  mainly  used. 

It  wasn't  never  meant  to  be  no  sort  of  an 
American  town  nohow,  Palomitas  wasn't — 
being  made  to  start  with  of  'dobes  (which  is 
Mexican  for  houses  built  of  mud,  and  mud 
they  was  in  the  rainy  season)  spilled  around 
on  the  bluff  anywheres;  and  when  the  track 
come  along  through  the  middle  of  it  the 
chinks  was  filled  in  with  tents  and  shingle- 
shacks  and  dugouts — all  being  so  mixed  up 
and  scattery  you'd  a-thought  somebody'd 
been  packing  a  town  through  them  parts  in 
a  wagon  and  the  load  had  jolted  out,  sort  of 
casual  over  the  tail-board,  and  stuck  where 
it  happened  to  come  down.  The  only  things 
you  could  call  houses  was  the  deepo,  and  the 
Forest  Queen  Hotel  right  across  the  track 
from  it,  and  Bill  Hart's  store.  Them  three 
buildings  was  framed  up  respectable;  with 
real  windows  that  opened,  and  doors  such  as 
you  could  move  without  kicking  at  'em  till 


Palomitas 

you  was  tired.  The  deepo  was  right  down 
stylish — having  a  brick  chimney  and  being 
painted  brown.  Aside  the  deepo  was  the 
tank  and  the  windmill  that  pumped  into  it. 
Seems  to  me  at  nights,  sometimes,  I  can  hear 
that  old  windmill  going  around  creaking  and 
clumpetty-clumpetting  now! 

Palomitas  means  "little  doves" — but  I 
reckon  the  number  of  them  birds  about  the 
place  was  few.  For  about  a  thousand  years, 
more  or  less,  it  had  been  run  on  a  basis  of 
two  or  three  hundred  Mexicans  and  a  sprink 
ling  of  pigs  and  Pueblo  Indians — the  pigs  was 
the  most  respectable — and  it  was  allowed  to 
be,  after  the  track  got  there,  the  toughest 
town  the  Territory  had  to  show.  Santa  Cruz 
de  la  Canada,  which  was  close  to  it,  was  said 
to  have  took  the  cake  for  toughness  before 
railroad  times.  It  was  a  holy  terror,  Santa 
Cruz  was!  The  only  decent  folks  in  it  was 
the  French  padre  —  who  outclassed  most 
saints,  and  hadn't  a  fly  on  him — and  a  Ger 
man  named  Becker.  He  had  the  Govern 
ment  forage-station,  Becker  had;  and  he 
used  to  say  he'd  had  a  fresh  surprise  every 
7 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

one  of  the  mornings  of  the  five  years  he'd 
been  forage-agent — when  he  woke  up  and 
found  nobody 'd  knifed  him  in  the  night  and 
he  was  keeping  on  being  alive! 

But  when  the  track  come  in,  and  the 
higher  civilization  come  in  a-yelling  with  it 
and  spread  itself,  Palomitas  could  give  points 
to  the  Canada  in  cussedness  all  down  the 
line.  Most  of  it  right  away  was  saloons  and 
dance-halls ;  and  the  pressure  for  faro  accom 
modation  was  such  the  padre  thought  he 
could  make  money  by  closing  down  his  own 
monte-bank  and  renting.  Denver  Jones  took 
his  place  at  fifty  dollars  a  week,  payable  every 
Saturday  night — and  rounded  on  the  padre 
by  getting  back  his  rent-money  over  the  table 
every  Sunday  afternoon.  He'd  a-got  it  back 
Sunday  mornings  if  the  padre  hadn't  been 
tied  up  mornings  to  his  work.  (He  was  a 
native,  that  padre  was  —  and  went  on  so 
extra  outrageous  his  own  folks  couldn't  stand 
him  and  Bishop  Lamy  bounced  him  from  his 
job.)  Pretty  much  all  the  time  there  was 
rumpusses;  and  the  way  they  was  managed 
made  the  Mexicans — being  used,  same  as  I've 
8 


Palomitas 

said,  to  knives  mostly — open  their  eyes  wide. 
It  seemed  really  to  jolt  'em  when  they  begun 
to  find  out  what  a  live  man  with  his  back 
up  could  do  with  a  gun!  Occurrences  was 
so  frequent — before  construction  started  up 
again,  and  for  a  while  after — the  new  cem 
etery  out  in  the  sage-brush  on  the  mesa 
come  close  to  having  as  big  a  population  as 
the  town. 

What  happened — shootings,  and  doings  of 
all  sorts  —  mostly  centred  on  the  Forest 
Queen.  That  was  the  only  place  that  called 
itself  a  hotel  in  Palomitas — folks  being  able 
to  get  some  sort  of  victuals  there,  and  it  hav 
ing  bunks  in  a  room  off  the  bar-room  where 
passers-through  was  give  a  chance  to  think 
(by  morning  they  was  apt  to  think  different) 
they  was  going  to  have  a  night's  sleep. 
Kicking  against  what  you  got — and  against 
the  throwed-in  extras  you'd  a-been  better 
without — didn't  do  no  good.  Old  Tenderfoot 
Sal,  who  kept  the  place,  only  stuck  her  fat 
elbows  out  and  told  the  kickers  she  done  the 
best  she  knowed  how  to,  and  she  reckoned  it 
was  as  good  as  you  could  expect  in  them 
9 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

parts,  and  most  was  suited.  If  they  didn't 
like  the  Forest  Queen  Hotel,  she  said,  they 
was  free  to  get  out  of  it  and  go  to  one  that 
suited  'em  better — and  as  there  wasn't  none 
to  go  to,  Sal  held  the  cards. 

She  was  a  corker,  Sal  was!  By  her  own 
account  of  herself,  she'd  learned  hotel-keep 
ing  through  being  a  sutler's  wife  in  the  war. 
What  sutling  had  had  to  do  with  it  was  left 
to  guess  at,  and  there  was  opinions  as  to  how 
much  her  training  in  hoteling  had  done  for 
her;  but  it  was  allowed  she'd  learned  a  heap 
of  other  things — of  one  sort  and  another — 
and  her  name  of  Tenderfoot  was  give  her 
because  them  fat  feet  of  hers,  in  the  course 
of  her  travels,  had  got  that  hard  I  reckon 
she  wouldn't  a-noticed  it  walking  on  red-hot 
point-upwards  ten-penny  nails! 

In  the  Forest  Queen  bar-room  was  the  big 
gest  bank  there  was  in  town.  Blister  Mike — 
he  was  Irish,  Blister  was,  and  Sal's  bar-keep 
— had  some  sort  of  a  share  in  it;  but  it  was 
run  by  a  feller  who'd  got  the  name  of  Santa 
Fe  Charley,  he  having  had  a  bank  over  in 
Santa  Fe  afore  Sal  give  him  the  offer  to  come 
10 


Palomitas 

across  to  Palomitas  and  take  charge.  He 
was  one  of  the  blue-eyed  quiet  kind,  Charley 
was,  that's  not  wholesome  to  monkey  with; 
the  sort  that's  extra  particular  about  being 
polite  and  nice-spoken — and  never  makes  no 
mistakes,  when  shooting-time  comes,  about 
shooting  to  kill.  When  he  was  sober,  though 
— and  he  had  to  keep  sober,  mostly,  or  his 
business  would  a-suffered — he  wasn't  hunt 
ing  after  rumpusses:  all  he  did  was  to  keep 
ready  for  'em,  and  hold  his  end  up  when  they 
come  along.  He  had  the  habit — same  as 
some  other  of  the  best  card  sharps  I've  met 
with — of  dressing  himself  in  black,  real  sty 
lish:  wearing  a  long- tail  coat  and  a  boiled 
shirt  and  white  tie,  and  having  a  toney  wide- 
brimmed  black  felt  hat  that  touched  him  off 
fine.  With  them  regular  fire-escape  clothes 
on,  folks  was  apt  to  take  him  for  one;  and, 
when  they  did,  he  always  met  'em  half-way 
by  letting  on  preaching  was  his  business- 
till  he  got  'em  on  the  other  side  of  the  table 
and  begun  to  shake  down  what  cards  he 
needed  from  up  inside  them  black  coat- 
sleeves.  Mostly  they  ended  by  th  inking  that 
ii 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

maybe  preaching  wasn't  just  what  you  might 
call  his  strongest  hold. 

It  helped  him  in  his  work  more'n  a  little, 
sometimes,  dressing  up  that  way  and  talking 
to  suit,  like  he  knowed  how  to,  real  high- 
toned  talk;  but  I  do  believe  for  a  fact  he 
enjoyed  the  dollars  he  got  out  of  it  less  'n  he 
did  the  fun  it  give  him  making  fools  of  folks 
by  setting  up  rigs  on  'em  —  he  truly  being 
the  greatest  hand  at  rigging  I  ever  seen. 
Somehow — not  having  the  comfort  of  being 
able  to  get  drunk  half  as  often  as  he  wanted 
to — it  seemed  like  he  give  himself  the  let-out 
he  needed  in  them  queer  antics ;  and,  for  cer 
tain,  he  managed  'em  always  so  they  went 
with  a  hum.  When  him  and  the  Sage-Brush 
Hen  played  partners  in  rigging  anybody — as 
they  was  apt  to,  the  Hen  being  much  such 
another  and  so  special  friends  with  Charley 
she'd  come  on  after  him  from  Santa  Fe* — 
there  mostly  was  a  real  down  spirited  game! 

She  was  what  you  might  call  the  leading 
lady  in  the  Forest  Queen  dance-hall,  the 
Sage-Brush  Hen  was;  and  if  you  wanted 
fun,  and  had  to  choose  between  her  arid  a 


Palomitas 

basket  of  monkeys,  all  I've  got  to  say  is — 
nobody 'd  ever  a- took  the  monkeys  who 
knowed  the  Hen!  That  girl  was  up  to 
more  queer  tricks  than  anybody  of  her  size 
and  shape — she  had  a  powerful  fine  shape, 
the  Hen  had — I've  ever  laid  eyes  on;  and 
she'd  run  'em  in  you  so  slick  and  quiet — 
keeping  as  demure  as  a  cat  after  birds  while 
she  was  doing  it — you'd  never  suspicion  any 
thing  was  happening  till  you  found  the  whole 
town  laughing  its  head  off  at  you  for  being 
so  many  kinds  of  a  fool! 

Things  wasn't  any  time  what  you  might 
call  too  extra  quiet  in  Palomitas;  but  when 
them  two — the  Hen  and  Santa  Fe — started 
in  together  to  run  any  racket  you  may  bet 
your  life  there  was  a  first-class  circus  from 
the  word  go!  Grass  didn't  grow  much  under 
their  feet,  either.  The  very  minute  the  Hen 
struck  the  town — coming  on  after  Santa  Fe, 
same  as  I've  said,  and  him  waiting  for  her 
when  she  got  there — they  went  at  their  mon 
key-shining,  finishing  two-handed  what  the 
Hen  had  started  as  a  lone-hand  game.  Right 
along  from  then  on  they  kept  things  moving 
13 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

spirited,  one  way  and  another,  without  much 
of  a  let-up.  And  they  ended  off — the  day 
the  two  of  'em,  owing  to  circumstances,  lit 
out  together — by  setting  up  on  all  of  us  what 
I  reckon  was  the  best  rig  ever  set  up  on  any 
body  anywheres  since  rigs  was  begun! 

Palomitas  was  a  purer  town,  Cherry  said — 
it  was  him  led  off  in  the  purifying — after  we 
was  shut  of  'em,  and  of  some  others  that  was 
fired  for  company ;  and  I  won't  say  he  wasn't 
right  in  making  out  it  was  a  better  town, 
maybe,  when  we'd  got  it  so  blame  pure. 
But  they  had  their  good  points,  the  Hen  and 
Santa  Fe*  had — and  after  they  was  purified 
out  of  it  some  of  us  didn't  never  quite  feel 
as  if  the  place  was  just  the  same. 


II 

THE   SAGE-BRUSH   HEN 

[HE  Hen  blew  in  one  day  on 
Hill's  coach,  coming  from 
Santa  Fe,  setting  up  on  the 
box  with  him — Hill  run  his 
coach  all  the  time  the  track 
was  stuck  at  Palomitas,  it  being  quicker  for 
Santa  F6  folks  going  up  that  way  to  Pueblo 
and  Denver  and  Leadville  than  taking  the 
Atchison  out  to  El  Moro  and  changing  to  the 
Narrow  Gauge — and  she  was  so  all  over  dust 
that  Wood  sung  out  to  him:  "Where'd  you 
get  your  Sage-Brush  Hen  from?"  And  the 
name  stuck. 

More  folks  in  Palomitas  had  names  that 

had  tumbled  to  'em  like  that  than  the  kind 

that  had  come  regular.     And  even  when  they 

sounded  regular  they  likely  wasn't.    Regular 

15 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

names  pretty  often  got  lost  coming  across  the 
Plains  in  them  days — more'n  a  few  finding  it 
better,  about  as  they  got  to  the  Missouri,  to 
leave  behind  what  they'd  been  called  by  back 
East  and  draw  something  new  from  the  pack. 
Making  some  sort  of  a  change  was  apt  to  be 
wholesomer  and  often  saved  talk. 

Hill  said  the  Hen  was  more  fun  coming 
across  from  Santa  Fe  than  anything  he'd 
ever  got  up  against;  and  she  was  all  the 
funnier,  he  said,  because  when  he  picked  her 
up  at  the  Fonda  she  looked  like  as  if  butter 
wouldn't  melt  in  her  mouth  and  started  in 
with  her  monkey-shines  so  sort  of  quiet  and 
demure.  Along  with  her,  waiting  at  the 
Fonda,  was  an  old  gent  with  spectacles  who 
turned  out  to  be  a  mine  sharp — one  of  them 
fellows  the  Government  sends  out  to  the 
Territory  to  write  up  serious  in  books  all  the 
fool  stories  prospectors  and  such  unload  on 
'em:  the  kind  that  needs  to  be  led,  and  '11 
eat  out  of  your  hand.  The  Hen  and  the  old 
gent  and  Hill  had  the  box-seat,  the  Hen  in 
between;  and  she  was  that  particular  about 
her  skirts  climbing  up,  and  about  making 
16 


The    Sage-Brush    Hen 

room  after  she  got  there,  that  Hill  said  he 
sized  her  up  himself  for  an  officer's  wife  going 
East. 

Except  to  say  thank  you,  and  talk  polite 
that  way,  she  didn't  open  her  head  till  they'd 
got  clear  of  the  town  and  begun  to  go  slow 
in  that  first  bit  of  bad  road  among  the  sand 
hills  ;  and  it  was  the  old  gent  speaking  to  her 
— telling  her  it  was  a  fine  day,  and  he  hoped 
she  liked  it — that  set  her  stamps  to  working 
a  little  then.  She  allowed  the  weather  was 
about  what  it  ought  to  be,  and  said  she  was 
much  obliged  and  it  suited  her;  and  then  she 
got  her  tongue  in  behind  her  teeth  again  as 
if  she  meant  to  keep  it  there — till  the  old 
gent  took  a  fresh  start  by  asking  her  if  she'd 
been  in  the  Territory  long.  She  said  polite 
she  hadn't,  and  was  quiet  for  a  minute. 
Then  she  got  out  her  pocket-handkerchief 
and  put  it  up  to  her  eyes  and  said  she'd 
been  in  it  longer'n  she  wanted,  and  was 
glad  she  was  going  away.  Hill  said  her 
talking  that  way  made  him  feel  kind  of 
curious  himself;  but  he  didn't  have  no  need 
to  ask  questions — the  old  gent  saving  him 
*t 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

that  trouble  by  going  for  her  sort  of  fatherly 
and  pumping  away  at  her  till  he  got  the 
whole  thing. 

It  come  out  scrappy,  like  as  might  be  ex 
pected,  Hill  said ;  and  so  natural-sounding  he 
thought  he  must  be  asleep  and  dreaming — 
he  knowing  pretty  well  what  was  going  on 
in  the  Territory,  and  she  telling  about  doings 
that  was  news  to  him  and  the  kind  he'd 
a-been  sure  to  hear  a  lot  of  if  they'd  ever 
really  come  off.  Hill  said  he  wished  he  could 
tell  it  all  as  she  did — speaking  low,  and  ketch- 
ing  her  breath  in  the  worst  parts,  and  mop 
ping  at  her  eyes  with  her  pocket-handkerchief 
— but  he  couldn't;  and  all  he  could  say  about 
it  was  it  was  better 'n  any  theatre  show  he'd 
ever  seen.  The  nubs  of  it  was,  he  said,  that 
she  said  her  husband  had  taken  out  a  troop 
from  Fort  Wingate  against  the  Apaches  (Hill 
knew  blame  well  up  there  in  the  Navajo 
country  was  no  place  to  look  for  Apaches) 
and  the  troop  had  been  ambushed  in  a 
canon  in  the  Zufii  Mountains  (which  made 
the  story  still  tougher)  and  every  man  of 
'em,  along  with  her  "dear  Captain"  as  she 
18 


The   Sage-Brush    Hen 

called  him,  had  lost  his  hair.  "His  loved 
remains  are  where  those  fierce  creatures  left 
them,"  she  said.  "I  have  not  even  the  sad 
solace  of  properly  burying  his  precious 
bones!"  And  she  cried. 

The  old  gent  was  quite  broke  up,  Hill  said, 
and  took  a-hold  of  her  hand  fatherly — she  was 
a  powerful  fine-looking  woman — and  said  she 
had  his  sympathy;  and  when  she  eased  up 
on  her  crying  so  she  could  talk  she  said  she 
was  much  obliged — and  felt  it  all  the  more, 
she  said,  because  he  looked  like  a  young 
uncle  of  hers  who'd  brought  her  up,  her 
father  being  dead,  till  she  was  married  East 
to  her  dear  Captain  and  had  come  out  to  the 
Territory  with  him  to  his  dreadful  doom. 

Hill  said  it  all  went  so  smooth  he  took  it 
down  himself  at  first — but  he  got  his  wind 
while  she  was  crying,  and  he  asked  her  what 
her  Captain's  name  was,  and  what  was  his 
regiment;  telling  her  he  hadn't  heard  of 
any  trouble  up  around  Wingate,  and  it  was 
news  to  him  Apaches  was  in  them  parts. 
She  give  him  a  dig  in  the  ribs  with  her  elbow 
— as  much  as  to  tell  him  he  wasn't  to  ask  no 
19 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

such  questions — and  said  back  to  him  her 
dear  husband  was  Captain  Chiswick  of  the 
Twelfth  Cavalry;  and  it  had  been  a  big 
come  down  for  him,  she  said,  when  he  got 
his  commission  in  the  Regulars,  after  he'd 
been  a  Volunteer  brigadier  -  general  in  the 
war. 

Hill  knowed  right  enough  there  wasn't 
no  Twelfth  Cavalry  nowhere,  and  that  the 
boys  at  Wingate  was  A  and  F  troops  of  the 
Fourth;  but  he  ketched  on  to  the  way  she 
was  giving  it  to  the  old  gent — and  so  he  give 
her  a  dig  in  the  ribs,  and  said  he'd  knowed 
Captain  Chiswick  intimate,  and  he  was  as 
good  a  fellow  as  ever  was,  and  it  was  a 
blame  pity  he  was  killed.  She  give  him  a 
dig  back  again,  at  that — and  was  less  par 
ticular  about  making  room  on  his  side. 

The  old  gent  took  it  all  in,  just  as  it  come 
along;  and  after  she'd  finished  up  about  the 
Apaches  killing  her  dear  Captain  he  wanted 
to  know  where  she  was  heading  for — because 
if  she  was  going  home  East,  he  said,  he  was 
going  East  himself  and  could  give  her  a 
father's  care. 

20 


The    Sage-Brush    Hen 

She  said  back  to  him,  pleasant  like,  that  a 
young  man  like  him  couldn't  well  be  father 
ing  an  old  lady  like  her,  though  it  was  oblig 
ing  of  him  to  offer ;  but,  anyway,  she  wasn't 
going  straight  back  East,  because  she  had 
to  wait  awhile  at  Palomitas  for  a  remittance 
she  was  expecting  to  pay  her  way  through— 
and  she  wasn't  any  too  sure  about  it,  she 
said,  whether  she'd  get  her  remittance;  or, 
if  she  did  get  it,  when  it  would  come.  Every 
thing  bad  always  got  down  on  you  at  once, 
she  said;  and  just  as  the  cruel  savages  had 
slain  her  dear  Captain  along  come  the  news 
the  bank  East  he'd  put  his  money  in  had 
broke  the  worst  kind.  Her  financial  diffi 
culties  wasn't  a  patch  on  the  trouble  her 
sorrowing  heart  was  giving  her,  she  said; 
but  she  allowed  they  added  what  she  called 
pangs  of  bitterness  to  her  deeper  pain. 

The  old  gent  —  he  wasn't  a  fool  clean 
through — asked  her  what  was  the  matter 
with  her  Government  transportation;  she 
having  a  right  to  transportation,  being  an 
officer's  widow  going  home.  Hill  said  he 
give  her  a  nudge  at  that,  as  much  as  to 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

say  the  old  gent  had  her.  She  didn't  faze 
a  bit,  though.  It  was  her  Government 
transportation  she  was  waiting  for,  she 
cracked  back  to  him  smooth  and  natural; 
but  such  things  had  to  go  all  the  way  to 
Washington  to  be  settled,  she  said,  and 
then  come  West  again — Hill  said  he  'most 
snickered  out  at  that — and  she'd  known 
cases  when  red-tape  had  got  in  the  way  and 
transportation  hadn't  been  allowed  at  all. 
Then  she  sighed  terrible,  and  said  it  might 
be  a  long,  long  while  before  she  could  get 
home  again  to  her  little  boy — who  was  all 
there  was  left  her  in  the  world.  Her  little 
Willy  was  being  took  care  of  by  his  grand 
mother,  she  said,  and  he  was  just  his  father's 
own  handsome  self  over  again — and  she  got 
out  her  pocket-handkerchief  and  jammed  it 
up  to  her  eyes. 

Her  left  hand  was  laying  in  her  lap,  sort  of 
casual,  and  the  old  gent  got  a-hold  of  it  and 
said  he  didn't  know  how  to  tell  her  how  sorry 
he  was  for  her.  Talking  from  behind  her 
pocket-handkerchief,  she  said  such  sympathy 
was  precious ;  and  then  she  went  on,  kind  of 

33 


HER    LEFT    HAND   WAS    LAYING    IN    HER    LAP,  AND    THE    OLD    GENT 
GOT    A-HOLD    OF    IT" 


The    Sage-Brush    Hen 

pitiful,  saying  she  s'posed  her  little  Willy'd 
have  forgot  all  about  her  before  she'd  get 
back  to  him — and  she  cried  some  more.  Hill 
said  she  done  it  so  well  he  was  half  took  in 
himself  for  a  minute,  and  felt  so  bad  he  went 
to  licking  and  swearing  at  his  mules. 

After  a  while  she  took  a  brace — getting 
down  her  pocket-handkerchief,  and  calling 
in  the  hand  the  old  gent  was  a-holding — and 
said  she  must  be  brave,  like  her  dear  Cap 
tain  'd  always  been,  so  he'd  see  when  he 
was  a-looking  at  her  from  heaven  she  was 
doing  the  square  thing.  And  as  to  having 
to  wait  around  before  she  went  East,  she 
said,  in  one  way  it  didn't  make  any  matter — • 
seeing  she'd  be  well  cared  for  and  comfortable 
at  Palomitas  staying  in  the  house  of  the 
Baptist  minister,  who'd  married  her  aunt. 

Hill  said  when  she  went  to  talking  about 
Baptist  ministers  and  aunts  in  Palomitas  he 
shook  so  laughing  inside  he  most  fell  off  the 
box.  Except  the  Mexican  padre  who  be 
longed  there — the  one  I've  spoke  of  that 
made  a  record,  and  Bishop  Lamy  had  to 
bounce — and  sometimes  the  French  ones 
23 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

from  San  Juan  and  the  Canada,  who  was 
straight  as  strings,  there  wasn't  a  fire-escape 
ever  showed  himself  in  Palomitas;  and  as 
to  the  ladies  of  the  town — well,  the  ladies 
wasn't  just  what  you'd  call  the  aunt  kind. 
It's  a  cold  fact  that  Palomitas,  that  year 
when  the  end  of  the  track  stuck  there,  was 
the  cussedest  town,  same  as  I've  said  it  was, 
in  the  whole  Territory  —  and  so  it  was  no 
more'n  natural  Hill  should  pretty  near  bust 
himself  trying  to  hold  in  his  laughing  when 
the  Hen  took  to  talking  so  off-hand  about 
Palomitas  and  Baptist  ministers  and  aunts. 
She  felt  how  he  was  shaking,  and  jammed 
him  hard  with  her  elbow  to  keep  him 
from  letting  his  laugh  out  and  giving  her 
away. 

Hill  said  they'd  got  along  to  Pojuaque  by 
the  time  the  Hen  had  finished  telling  about 
herself,  and  the  fix  she  was  in  because  she 
had  to  wait  along  with  her  aunt  in  Palomitas 
till  her  transportation  come  from  Washington 
— and  she  just  sick  to  get  East  and  grab  her 
little  Willy  in  her  arms.  And  the  old  gent 
94 


The    Sage-Brush    Hen 

was  that  interested  in  it  all,  Hill  said,  it  was 
a  sight  to  see  how  he  went  on. 

At  Pojuaque  the  coach  always  made  a 
noon  stop,  and  the  team  was  changed  and 
the  passengers  got  dinner  at  old  man  Bou 
quet's.  He  was  a  Frenchman,  old  man 
Bouquet  was ;  but  he'd  been  in  the  Territory 
from  'way  back,  and  he'd  got  a  nice  garden 
behind  his  house  and  things  fixed  up  French 
style.  His  strongest  hold  was  his  wine-mak 
ing.  He  made  a  first-class  drink,  as  drinks 
of  that  sort  go;  and,  for  its  kind,  it  was 
pretty  strong.  As  his  cooking  was  first-class 
too,  Hill's  passengers — and  the  other  folks 
that  stopped  for  grub  there — always  wanted 
to  make  a  good  long  halt. 

Hill  said  it  turned  out  the  old  gent  knowed 
how  to  talk  French,  and  that  made  old  man 
Bouquet  extra  obliging  —  and  he  set  up  a 
rattling  good  dinner  and  fetched  out  some  of 
the  wine  he  said  he  was  in  the  habit  of  keep 
ing  for  his  own  drinking,  seeing  he'd  got 
somebody  in  the  house  for  once  who  really 
could  tell  the  difference  between  good  and 
bad.  He  fixed  up  a  table  out  in  the  garden 
25 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

— aside  of  that  queer  tree,  all  growed  to 
gether,  he  thought  so  much  of  —  and  set 
down  with  'em  himself ;  and  Hill  said  it  was 
one  of  the  pleasantest  parties  he'd  ever  been 
at  in  all  his  born  days. 

The  Hen  and  the  old  gent  got  friendlier 
and  friendlier — she  being  more  cheerful  when 
she'd  been  setting  at  table  a  while,  and  get 
ting  to  talking  so  comical  she  kept  'em  all 
on  a  full  laugh.  Now  and  then,  though, 
she'd  pull  up  sudden  and  kind  of  back  away 
— making  out  she  didn't  want  it  to  show  so 
much — and  get  her  pocket-handkerchief  to 
her  eyes  and  snuffle;  and  then  she'd  pull 
herself  together  sort  of  conspicuous,  and  say 
she  didn't  want  to  spoil  the  party,  but  she 
couldn't  help  thinking  how  long  it  was  likely 
to  be  before  she'd  see  her  little  boy.  And 
then  the  old  gent  would  say  that  such  tender 
motherliness  did  her  credit,  and  hers  was  a 
sweet  nature,  and  he'd  hold  her  hand  till  she 
took  it  away. 

Hill  said  the  time  passed  so  pleasant  he 
forgot  how  it  was  going,  and  when  he  hap 
pened  to  think  to  look  at  his  watch  he  found 
26 


The   Sage-Brush    Hen 

he'd  have  to  everlastingly  hustle  his  mules 
to  get  over  to  Palomitas  in  time  to  ketch 
the  Denver  train.  He  went  off  in  a  tearing 
hurry  to  hitch  up,  and  old  man  Bouquet 
went  along  to  help  him — the  old  gent  saying 
he  guessed  he  and  Mrs.  Chiswick  would  stay 
setting  where  they  was,  it  being  cool  and 
comfortable  in  the  garden,  till  the  team  was 
put  to.  They  set  so  solid,  Hill  said,  they 
didn't  hear  him  when  he  sung  out  to  'em  he 
was  ready ;  and  he  said  he  let  his  mouth  go 
wide  open  and  yelled  like  hell.  (Hill  always 
talked  that  careless  way.  He  didn't  mean 
no  harm  by  it.  He  said  it  was  just  a  habit 
he'd  got  into  driving  mules.)  They  not  com 
ing,  he  went  to  hurry  'em,  he  said — and  as  he 
come  up  behind  'em  the  Hen  was  stuffing 
something  into  her  frock,  and  the  old  gent 
was  saying:  "I  want  you  to  get  quickly  to 
your  dear  infant,  my  daughter.  You  can  re 
turn  at  your  convenience  my  trifling  loan. 
And  now  I  will  give  you  a  fatherly  kiss — " 

But  he  didn't,  Hill  said — because  the  Hen 
heard  Hill's  boots  on  the  gravel  and  faced 
round  so  quick  she  spoiled  his  chance.     He 
27 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

deemed  a  little  jolted,  Hill  said;  but  the  Hen 
was  so  cool,  and  talked  so  pleasant  and  natu 
ral  about  what  a  nice  dinner  they'd  been 
having,  and  what  a  fine  afternoon  it  was,  he 
braced  up  and  got  to  talking  easy  too. 

Then  they  all  broke  for  the  coach,  and  got 
away  across  the  Tesuque  River  and  on 
through  the  sand-hills  —  with  Hill  cutting 
away  at  his  mules  and  using  words  to  'em  fit 
to  blister  their  hides  off — and  when  they 
fetched  the  Canada  they'd  about  ketched  up 
again  to  schedule  time.  After  the  Mexican 
who  kept  the  Santa  Cruz  post-office  had 
made  the  mess  he  always  did  with  the  mail 
matter,  and  had  got  the  cussing  he  always 
got  from  Hill  for  doing  it,  they  started  off 
again — coming  slow  through  that  bit  of 
extra  heavy  road  along  by  the  Rio  Grande, 
but  getting  to  the  deepo  at  Palomitas  all 
serene  to  ketch  the  Denver  train. 

All  the  way  over  from  Pojuaque,  Hill  said, 
he  could  see  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  the 
old  gent  was  nudging  up  to  the  Hen  with  his 
shoulder,  friendly  and  sociable;  and  he  said 
he  noticed  the  Hen  was  a  good  deal  less  par- 
28 


The    Sage-Brush    Hen 

ticular  about  making  room.  The  old  gent 
flushed  up  and  got  into  a  regular  temper, 
Hill  said,  when  Wood  sung  out  as  they 
pulled  in  to  the  deepo  platform:  "  Where 'd 
you  get  your  Sage-Brush  Hen  from?" — and 
that  way  give  her  what  stuck  fast  for  her 
name. 

As  it  turned  out,  they  might  a-kept  on 
a-hashing  as  long  as  they'd  a  mind  to  at 
Pojuaque;  and  Hill  might  a-let  his  mules 
take  it  easy,  without  tiring  himself  swearing 
at  'em,  on  a  dead  walk — there  being  a  wash 
out  in  the  Comanche  Canon,  up  above  the 
Embudo,  that  held  the  train.  It  wasn't 
much  of  a  wash-out,  the  conductor  said ;  but 
he  said  he  guessed  all  hands  likely'd  be  more 
comfortable  waiting  at  Palomitas,  where 
there  was  things  doing,  than  they  would  be 
setting  still  in  the  canon  while  the  track-gang 
finished  their  job — and  he  said  he  reckoned 
the  train  wouldn't  start  for  about  three 
hours. 

The  Hen  and  the  old  gent  was  standing 
on  the  deepo  platform,  where  they'd  landed 
29 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

from  the  coach;  and  Hill  said  as  he  was 
taking  his  mails  across  to  the  express-car  he 
heard  him  asking  her  once  more  if  she  hadn't 
better  come  right  along  East  to  her  lonely 
babe;  and  promising  to  take  a  father's  care 
of  her  all  the  way.  The  Hen  seemed  to  be 
in  two  minds  about  it  for  a  minute,  Hill  said, 
and  then  she  thanked  him,  sweet  as  sugar,, 
for  his  goodness  to  her  in  her  time  of  trouble ; 
and  told  him  it  would  be  a  real  comfort  to 
go  East  with  such  a  kind  escort  to  take  care 
of  her — but  she  said  it  wouldn't  work,  be 
cause  she  was  expected  in  Palomitas,  and 
not  stopping  there  would  be  disappointing 
to  her  dear  uncle  and  aunt. 

It  was  after  sundown  and  getting  duskish, 
while  they  was  talking;  and  she  said  she 
must  be  getting  along.  The  old  gent  said 
he'd  go  with  her;  but  she  said  he  mustn't 
think  of  it,  as  it  was  only  a  step  to  the  par 
sonage  and  she  knew  the  way.  While  he 
was  keeping  on  telling  her  she  really  must 
let  him  see  her  safe  with  her  relatives,  up 
come  Santa  Fe  Charley — and  Charley  sung 
out:  " Hello,  old.  girl.  So  you've  got  here! 
30 


The    Sage-Brush   Hen 

I  was  looking  for  you  on  the  coach,  and  I 
thought  you  hadn't  come." 

Hill  said  he  begun  to  shake  all  over  with 
laughing;  being  sure — for  all  Charley  in  his 
black  clothes  and  white  tie  looked  so  toney — 
it  would  be  a  dead  give  away  for  her.  But 
he  said  she  only  give  a  little  jump  when 
Santa  F6  sung  out  to  her,  and  didn't  turn  a 
hair. 

"  Dear  Uncle  Charley,  I  am  so  glad  to  see 
you!"  she  said  easy  and  pleasant;  and  then 
round  she  come  to  the  old  gent,  and  said  as 
smooth  as  butter  to  him:  "This  is  my  uncle, 
the  Baptist  minister,  sir,  come  to  take  me  to 
the  parsonage  to  my  dear  aunt.  It's  almost 
funny  to  have  so  young  an  uncle!  Aunt's 
young  too — you  see,  grandfather  married  a 
second  time.  We're  more  like  sister  and 
brother — being  so  near  of  an  age;  and  he 
always  will  talk  to  me  free  and  easy,  like  he 
always  did — though  I  tell  him  now  he's  a 
minister  it  don't  sound  well."  And  then  she 
whipped  round  to  Charley,  so  quick  he  hadn't 
time  to  get  a  word  in  edgeways,  and  said  to 
him:  "I  hope  Aunt  Jane's  well, and  didn't 

^  31 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

have  to  go  up  to  Denver — as  she  said  she 
might  in  her  last  letter — to  look  after  Cousin 
Mary.  And  I  do  hope  you've  finished  the 
painting  she  said  was  going  on  at  the  parson 
age — so  you  can  take  me  in  there  till  my 
transportation  comes  and  I  can  start  East. 
This  kind  gentleman,  who's  going  up  on  to 
night's  train,  has  been  offering — and  it's  just 
as  good  of  him,  even  if  I  can't  go — to  escort 
me  home  to  my  dear  baby;  and  he's  been 
giving  me  in  the  sweetest  way  his  sympathy 
over  my  dear  husband  Captain  Chiswick's 
loss." 

Hill  said  he  never  knowed  anybody  take 
cards  as  quick  as  Santa  Fe  took  the  cards 
the  Hen  was  giving  him.  "  I'm  very  happy 
to  meet  you,  sir,"  he  said  to  the  old  gent; 
"and  most  grateful  to  you  for  your  kindness 
to  my  poor  niece  Rachel  in  her  distress.  We 
have  been  sorrowing  over  her  during  Captain 
Chiswick's  long  and  painful  illness — " 

"  My  dear  Captain  had  been  sick  for  three 
months,  and  got  up  out  of  his  bed  to  go  and 
be  killed  with  his  men  by  those  dreadful 
Apaches,"  the  Hen  cut  in. 
32 


The    Sage-Brush   Hen 

" — and  when  the  news  came  of  the  massa 
cre,"  Charley  went  right  on,  as  cool  as  an 
iced  drink,  "  our  hearts  almost  broke  for  her. 
Captain  Chiswick  was  a  splendid  gentleman, 
sir;  one  of  the  finest  officers  ever  sent  out  to 
this  Territory.  His  loss  is  a  bad  thing  for 
the  service;  but  it  is  a  worse  thing  for  my 
poor  niece  —  left  forsaken  along  with  her 
sweet  babes.  They  are  noble  children,  sir; 
worthy  of  their  noble  sire!" 

"Oh,  Uncle  Charley  I"  said  the  Hen. 
"Didn't  you  get  my  letter  telling  you  my 
little  Jane  died  of  croup  ?  I've  only  my  little 
Willy,  now!"  And  she  kind  of  gagged. 

"My  poor  child."  My  poor  child!"  said 
Santa  Fe*.  "  I  did  not  know  that  death  had 
winged  a  double  dart  at  you  like  that — your 
letter  never  came."  And  then  he  said  to 
the  old  gent:  "The  mail  service  in  this  Ter 
ritory,  sir,  is  a  disgrace  to  the  country.  The 
Government  ought  to  be  ashamed!" 

Hill  said  while  they  was  giving  it  and  tak 
ing  it  that  way  he  most  choked — particular 
as  the  old  gent  just  gulped  it  all  down  whole. 

Hill  said  the  three  of  'em  was  sort  of  quiet 
33 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

and  sorrowful  for  a  minute,  and  then  Santa 
Fe"  said:  "It  is  too  bad,  Rachel,  but  your 
Aunt  Jane  did  have  to  go  up  to  Denver 
yesterday — a  despatch  came  saying  Cousin 
Mary's  taken  worse.  And  the  parsonage  is 
in  such  a  mess  still  with  the  painters  that 
I've  moved  over  to  the  Forest  Queen  Hotel. 
But  you  can  come  there  too — it's  kept  by  an 
officer's  widow,  you  know,  and  is  most  quiet 
and  respectable  —  and  you'll  be  almost  as 
comfortable  waiting  there  till  your  trans 
portation  comes  along  as  you  would  be  if  I 
could  take  you  home." 

Hill  said  hearing  the  Forest  Queen  talked 
about  as  quiet  and  respectable,  and  Santa 
F6's  so  sort  of  off-hand  making  an  officer's 
widow  out  of  old  Tenderfoot  Sal,  set  him  to 
shaking  at  such  a  rate  he  had  to  get  to  where 
there  was  a  kag  of  railroad  spikes  and  set 
down  on  it  and  hold  his  sides  with  both 
hands. 

Santa  F£  turned  to  the  old  gent,  Hill  said 

— talking  as  polite  as  a  Pullman  conductor — 

and  told  him  since  he'd  been  so  kind  to  his 

unhappy  niece  he  hoped  he'd  come  along 

34 


The    Sage-Brush    Hen 

with  'em  to  the  hotel  too — where  he'd  be 
more  comfortable,  Santa  Fe  said,  getting 
something  to  eat  and  drink  than  he  would 
be  kicking  around  the  deepo  waiting  till 
they'd  filled  in  the  wash-out  and  the  train 
could  start. 

Hill  said  the  Hen  give  Santa  Fe  a  queer 
sort  of  look  at  that,  as  much  as  to  ask  him  if 
he  was  dead  sure  he  had  the  cards  for  that 
lead.  Santa  Fe  give  her  a  look  back  again, 
as  much  as  to  say  he  knew  what  was  and 
what  wasn't  on  the  table;  and  then  he  went 
on  to  the  old  gent,  speaking  pleasant,  telling 
him  likely  it  might  be  a  little  bit  noisy  over 
at  the  hotel — doing  her  best,  he  said,  Mrs. 
Major  Rogers  couldn't  help  having  noise 
sometimes,  things  being  so  rough  and  tum 
ble  out  there  on  the  frontier;  but  he  had  a 
private  room  for  his  study,  where  he  wrote 
his  sermons,  he  said,  and  got  into  it  by  a 
side  door — and  so  he  guessed  things  wouldn't 
be  too  bad. 

That  seemed  to  make  the  Hen  easy,  Hill 
said;  and  away  the  three  of  'em  went  to 
gether  to  the  Forest  Queen.  Hill  knowed  it 
35 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

was  straight  enough  about  the  private  room 
and  the  side  door — Santa  Fe  had  it  to  do 
business  in  for  himself,  on  the  quiet,  when  he 
didn't  have  to  deal ;  and  Hill  'd  known  of  a 
good  many  folks  who'd  gone  in  that  private 
room  by  that  side  door  and  hadn't  come  out 
again  till  Santa  F6'd  scooped  their  pile.  But 
it  wasn't  no  business  of  his,  he  said ;  and  he 
said  he  was  glad  to  get  shut  of  'em  so  he 
might  have  a  chance  to  let  out  the  laughing 
that  fairly  was  hurting  his  insides. 

As  they  was  going  away  from  the  deepo, 
Hill  said,  he  heard  Santa  Fe  telling  the  old 
gent  he  was  sorry  it  was  getting  so  dark — as 
he'd  like  to  take  him  round  so  he  could  see 
the  parsonage,  and  the  new  church  they'd 
just  finished  building  and  was  going  to  put 
an  organ  in  as  soon  as  they'd  raised  more 
funds;  but  it  wasn't  worth  while  going  out 
of  their  way,  he  said,  because  they  wouldn't 
show  to  no  sort  of  advantage  with  the  light 
so  bad.  As  the  only  church  in  Palomitas  was 
the  Mexican  mud  one  about  two  hundred 
years  old,  and  as  the  nearest  thing  to  a  par 
sonage  was  the  Padre's  house  that  Denver 
36 


The    Sage-Brush    Hen 

Jones  had  rented  and  had  his  faro-bank  in, 
Hill  said  he  guessed  Charley  acted  sensible 
in  not  trying  to  show  the  old  gent  around 
that  part  of  the  town. 

Hill  said  after  he'd  got  his  supper  he 
thought  he'd  come  down  to  the  deepo  and 
sort  of  wait  around  there;  on  the  chance 
he'd  ketch  on — when  the  old  gent  come  over 
to  the  train — to  what  Santa  Fe  and  the  Hen 
'd  been  putting  up  on  him.  Sure  enough,  he 
did. 

Along  about  ten  o'clock  a  starting-order 
come  down — the  track-gang  by  that  time 
having  the  wash-out  so  near  fixed  it  would 
be  fit  by  the  time  the  train  got  there  to  go 
across ;  and  Wood — he  was  the  agent,  Wood 
was — sent  word  over  to  the  Forest  Queen  to 
the  old  gent,  who  was  the  only  Pullman  pas 
senger,  he'd  better  be  coming  along. 

In  five  minutes  or  so  he  showed  up.  He 
wasn't  in  the  best  shape,  Hill  said,  and 
Santa  Fe  and  the  Hen  each  of  'em  was 
giving  him  an  arm;  though  what  he  seemed 
to  need  more'n  arms,  Hill  said,  was  legs — 
37 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

the  ones  he  had,  judging  from  the  way  he 
couldn't  manage  'em,  not  being  in  first-class 
order  and  working  bad.  But  he  didn't  make 
no  exhibition  of  himself,  and  talked  right 
enough— only  he  spoke  sort  of  short  and 
scrappy — and  the  three  of  'em  was  as  friend 
ly  together  as  friendly  could  be.  Hill  said 
he  didn't  think  it  was  any  hurt  to  listen, 
things  being  the  way  they  was,  and  he  edged 
up  close  to  'em — while  they  stood  waiting 
for  the  porter  to  light  up  the  Pullman — and 
though  he  couldn't  quite  make  sense  of  all 
they  was  saying  he  did  get  on  to  enough  of 
it  to  size  up  pretty  close  how  they'd  put  the 
old  gent  through. 

"Although  it  is  for  my  struggling  church, 
a  weak  blade  of  grass  in  the  desert,"  Santa 
F6  was  saying  when  Hill  got  the  range  of  'em, 
"  I  cannot  but  regret  having  taken  from  you 
your  splendid  contribution  to  our  parish  fund 
in  so  unusual,  I  might  almost  say  in  so  un 
seemly,  a  way.  That  I  have  returned  to 
you  a  sufficient  sum  to  enable  you  to  prose 
cute  your  journey  to  its  conclusion  places 
you  tinder  no  obligation  to  me.  Indeed,  I 

38 


The    Sage-Brush    Hen 

could  not  have  done  less — considering  the 
very  liberal  loan  that  you  have  made  to  my 
poor  niece  to  enable  her  to  return  quickly  to 
her  helpless  babe.  As  I  hardly  need  tell  you, 
that  loan  will  be  returned  promptly — as  soon 
as  Mrs.  Captain  Chiswick  gets  East  and  is 
able  to  disentangle  her  affairs." 

"Indeed  it  will,"  the  Hen  put  in.  "My 
generous  benefactor  shall  be  squared  with  if 
I  have  to  sell  my  clothes!" 

"Mustn't  think  of  such  a  thing.  Catch 
cold,"  the  old  gent  said.  "Pleasure's  all 
mine  to  assist  such  noble  a  woman  in  her 
unmerited  distress.  And  now  I  shall  have 
happiness,  and  same  time  sorrow,  to  give 
her  fatherly  kiss  for  farewell." 

The  Hen  edged  away  a  little,  Hill  said, 
and  Santa  Fe"  shortened  his  grip  a  little  on 
the  old  gent's  arm — so  his  fatherly  kissing 
missed  fire.  But  he  didn't  seem  to  notice, 
and  said  to  Santa  F6:  "Never  knew  a  min 
ister  know  cards  like  you.  Wonderful !  And 
wonderful  luck  what  you  held.  Played  cards 
a  good  deal  myself.  Never  could  play  like 
you!" 

39 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

Santa  F6  steadied  the  old  gent,  Hill  said, 
and  said  to  him  in  a  kind  of  explaining  way : 
"As  I  told  you,  my  dear  sir,  in  my  wild 
college  days — before  I  got  light  on  my  sinful 
path  and  headed  for  the  ministry — I  was 
reckoned  something  out  of  the  common  as  a 
card-player;  and  what  the  profane  call  luck 
used  to  be  with  me  all  the  time.  Of  course, 
since  I  humbly — but,  I  trust,  helpfully — took 
to  being  a  worker  in  the  vineyard,  I  have 
not  touched  those  devil's  picture-books ;  nor 
should  I  have  touched  them  to-night  but  for 
my  hope  that  a  little  game  would  help  to 
while  away  your  time  of  tedious  waiting. 
As  for  playing  for  money,  that  would  have 
been  quite  impossible  had  it  not  been  for  my 
niece's  suggestion  that  my  winnings — in  case 
such  came  to  me — should  be  added  to  our 
meagre  parish  fund.  I  trust  that  I  have  not 
done  wrong  in  yielding  to  my  impulse.  At 
least  I  have  to  sustain  me  the  knowledge 
that  if  you,  my  dear  sir,  are  somewhat  the 
worse,  my  impoverished  church  is  much  the 
better  for  our  friendly  game  of  chance." 

Hill  said  hearing  Santa  F6  Charley  talking 
40 


The    Sage-Brush   Hen 

about  chance  in  any  game  where  he  had  the 
dealing  was  so  funny  it  was  better 'n  going 
to  the  circus.  But  the  old  gent  took  it  right 
enough  —  and  the  Hen  added  on:  "Yes, 
Uncle  Charley  can  get  the  organ  he's  been 
wanting  so  badly  for  his  church,  now.  And 
I'm  sure  we'll  all  think  of  how  we  owe  its 
sweet  music  to  you  every  time  we  hear  it 
played!" — and  she  edged  up  to  him  again, 
so  he  could  hold  her  hand.  "  It  must  make 
you  very,  very  happy,  sir,"  she  kept  on, 
speaking  kind  of  low  and  gentle,  but  not 
coming  as  close  as  he  wanted  her,  "to  go 
about  the  world  doing  such  generous-hearted 
good  deeds!  I'm  sure  I'd  like  to  thank  you 
enough — only  there  aren't  any  fit  words  to 
thank  you  in — for  your  noble-hearted  gen 
erous  goodness  to  me!" 

The  old  gent  hauled  away  on  her  hand,  Hill 
said,  trying  to  get  her  closer,  and  said  back  to 
her :  "  Words  quite  unnecessary.  Old  man's 
heart  filled  with  pleasure  obliging  such  dear 
child.  Never  mind  about  words.  Accept 
old  man's  fatherly  kiss,  like  daughter,  for 
good-bye." 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

But  he  missed  it  that  time  too,  Hill  said — 
and  Hill  said,  speaking  in  his  careless  cuss- 
word  way,  it  was  pretty  damn  rough  on  him 
what  poor  luck  in  fatherly  kisses  he  seemed 
to  have — because  just  then  the  train  con 
ductor  swung  his  lantern  and  sung  out: 
"All  aboard!" 

That  ended  things.  Before  the  old  gent 
knowed  what  had  got  him,  Santa  F6  and 
the  Hen  had  boosted  him  up  the  steps  onto 
the  platform  of  the  Pullman — where  the  Pull 
man  conductor  got  a  grip  on  him  just  in  time 
to  save  him  from  spilling — and  then  the  train 
pulled  out :  with  the  Pullman  conductor  keep 
ing  him  steady,  and  he  throwing  back  good 
bye  kisses  to  the  Hen  with  both  hands. 

Hill  said  the  Hen  and  Santa  Fe  kept  quiet 
till  the  hind-lights  showed  beyond  the  end 
of  the  deepo  platform:  and  then  the  Hen 
grabbed  Santa  Fe  round  the  neck  and  just 
hung  onto  him — so  tull  of  laugh  she  was  limp 
— while  they  both  roared.  And  Hill  said  he 
roared  too.  It  was  the  most  comical  bit  of 
business,  he  said,  he'd  tumbled  to  in  all  his 
born  days! 

42 


The    Sage-Brush   Hen 

It  wasn't  till  the  train  got  clean  round  the 
curve  above  the  station,  Hill  said,  that 
Charley  and  the  Hen  could  pull  'emselves 
together  so  they  could  talk.  Then  the  Hen 
let  a-go  of  Santa  Fe's  neck  and  said  comical — 
speaking  kind  of  precise  and  toney,  like  as  if 
she  was  an  officer's  wife  sure  enough :  "  You 
had  better  return  to  your  study,  dear  Uncle 
Charley,  and  finish  writing  that  sermon  you 
said  we'd  interrupted  you  in  that  was  about 
caring  for  the  sheep  as  well  as  the  lambs!" 

And  then  they  went  off  together  yelling, 
Hill  said,  over  to  the  Forest  Queen. 


Ill 

HART'S   NEPHEW'S   HOLD-UP 

[ILL  always  said  he  counted  on 
coming  into  Palomitas  some 
day  on  one  of  his  mules  bare 
back — leaving  the  other  five 
dead  or  stampeded,  and  the 
coach  stalled  somewhere — and  bringing  his 
hair  only  because  road-agents  hadn't  no 
use  for  hair  and  his  wasn't  easy  to  get  any 
how,  he  being  so  bald  on  top  there  wasn't 
nothing  to  ketch  a-hold  of  if  anybody  wanted 
to  lift  what  little  there  was  along  the  sides. 
Of  course  that  was  just  Hill's  comical  way 
of  putting  it ;  but  back  of  his  fool  talk  there 
was  hard  sense — as  there  was  apt  to  be  back 
of  Hill's  talk  every  time.  He  knew  blame 
well  what  he  was  up  against,  Hill  did;  and 
if  he  hadn't  been  more'n  extra  sandy  he 
never  could  a-held  down  his  job, 
44 


Hart's    Nephew's    Hold-up 

Till  Hill  started  his  coach  up,  the  only 
way  to  get  across  to  Santa  Fe  from  Palomitas 
was  to  go  a-horseback  or  walk.  Both  ways 
was  unhealthy;  and  the  coach,  being  pretty 
near  as  liable  to  hold-ups,  wasn't  much 
healthier.  It  had  to  go  slow,  the  coach  had 
— that  was  a  powerful  mean  road  after  you 
left  Pojuaque  and  got  in  among  the  sand 
hills — and  you  never  was  sure  when  some 
of  them  bunches  of  scrub-cedar  wasn't  going 
to  wake  up  and  take  to  pumping  lead  into 
you.  Only  a  nervy  man,  like  Hill  was,  ever 
could  have  took  the  contract;  and  Hill  said 
he  got  so  rattled  sometimes — when  it  hap 
pened  he  hadn't  no  passengers  and  was  go 
ing  it  alone  in  among  them  sand-hills — he 
guessed  it  was  only  because  he  had  so  little 
hair  to  turn  anything  it  didn't  turn  gray. 

Hill  slept  at  the  Forest  Queen,  the  nights 
he  was  in  Palomitas  —  he  drove  one  way 
one  day  and  the  other  way  the  next — and 
the  boys  made  things  cheerfuller  for  him  by 
all  the  time  rigging  him  about  the  poor  show 
he  had  for  sticking  long  at  his  job.  He'd 
look  well,  they  said,  a-laying  out  there  in 
45 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

the  sage-brush  plugged  fall  of  lead  waiting 
for  his  friends  to  call  for  him ;  and  they  asked 
him  how  he  thought  he'd  enjoy  being  a  free- 
lunch  counter  for  coyotes;  and  they  told 
him  he'd  better  write  down  on  a  piece  of 
paper  anything  he'd  like  particular  to  have 
painted  on  the  board — and  they  just  gen 
erally  devilled  him  all  round.  Hill  didn't 
mind  the  fool  talk  they  give  him — he  always 
was  a  good-natured  fellow,  Hill  was — and  he 
mostly  managed  to  hit  back  at  'em,  one  way 
or  another,  so  they'd  come  out  about  even 
and  end  up  with  drinks  for  all  hands. 

The  only  one  who  really  didn't  like  that 
sort  of  talk,  and  always  kicked  when  the 
boys  started  in  on  it,  was  the  Sage -Brush 
Hen.  She  said  it  was  a  mean  shame  to 
make  a  joke  about  a  thing  like  that,  seeing 
there  wasn't  a  day  when  it  mightn't  happen ; 
and  it  wasn't  like  an  ordinary  shooting- 
match,  she  said,  that  come  along  in  the 
regular  way  and  both  of  you  took  your 
chances;  and  sometimes  she'd  get  that  mad 
and  worried  she'd  go  right  smack  out  of  the 
room. 

46 


Hart's    Nephew's    Hold-up 

You  see,  the  Hen  always  thought  a  heap  of 
Hill — they  having  got  to  be  such  friends 
together  that  first  day  when  he  brought  her 
over  to  Palomitas  on  the  coach  and  helped 
her  put  up  her  rig  on  the  old  gent  from 
Washington;  and,  back  of  her  liking  Hill 
specially,  she  really  was  about  as  good-nat 
ured  a  woman  as  ever  lived.  Except  Hart's 
nephew — she  did  just  hate  Hart's  nephew, 
who  was  a  chump  if  ever  there  was  one — she 
always  was  as  pleasant  as  pie  with  every 
body;  and  if  any  of  the  boys  was  hurt — like 
when  Denver  Jones  got  that  jag  in  his 
shoulder  rumpussing  with  Santa  Fe  Charley; 
and  she  more  friends  with  Charley,  of  course, 
than  with  anybody  else — she'd  turn  right  in 
and  help  all  she  knowed  how. 

But  it's  a  cold  fact,  for  all  her  being  so 
good-natured  and  obliging,  that  wherever 
that  Hen  was  there  was  a  circus.  It  was  on 
her  account  Charley  and  Denver  had  their 
little  difficulty;  and,  one  way  and  another, 
there  was  more  shooting  -  scrapes  about  her 
than  about  all  the  other  girls  put  together 
in  all  the  dance-halls  in  town.  Why,  it  got 
«  47 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

to  be  so  that  one  corner  of  the  new  cemetery 
out  on  the  mesa  was  called  her  private  lot. 
It  wasn't  her  fault,  she  always  said;  and,  in 
one  way,  it  wasn't — she  always  being  willing 
to  be  sociable  and  friendly  all  round.  But, 
all  the  same,  wherever  that  Sage-Brush  Hen 
was,  there  was  dead  sure  to  be  an  all-right 
cyclone. 

One  night  when  the  boys  at  the  Forest 
Queen  was  rigging  Hill  worse 'n  usual,  and  the 
Hen  all  the  time  getting  madder  and  madder, 
Santa  Fe  Charley  come  into  the  game  himself. 
Knowing  how  down  the  Hen  was  on  such 
doings  he  usually  didn't.  I  guess  he  and 
she'd  been  having  some  sort  of  a  ruction 
that  day,  and  he  wanted  to  get  even  with 
her.  Anyhow,  in  he  come — and  the  way  he 
played  his  hand  just  got  the  Hen  right  up 
on  her  ear. 

What  Charley  did  was  to  start  a  thirty-day 
pool  on  Hill  as  to  when  it  would  happen. 
Chances  was  a  dollar  apiece — the  dates  for 
thirty  days  ahead  being  written  on  bits  of 
paper,  and  the  bits  crumpled  up  and  put 
48 


Hart's    Nephew's    Hold-up 

into  a  hat,  and  you  took  one — and  the  pool 
went  to  whoever  got  the  right  date,  with 
consolation  stakes  to  whoever  got  the  day 
before  and  the  day  after.  Charley  made  a 
comical  speech,  after  the  drawing,  telling 
the  boys  it  was  what  you  might  call  a  quick 
return  investment,  and  he  guessed  all  of 
'em  had  got  left  who'd  drawed  dates  more'n 
a  week  away.  Hill  took  it  all  right,  same 
as  usual;  and  just  to  show  'em  he  didn't 
bear  no  malice  he  bought  a  chance  him 
self.  He  was  one  of  the  best-natured  fel 
lows  ever  got  born,  Hill  was.  There  wasn't 
no  Apache  in  him  nowhere.  He  was  white 
all  the  way  through.  So  he  bought  his 
chance,  that  way,  and  then  he  give  it  to 
the  Hen  —  telling  her  if  he  pulled  the  pot 
himself  it  wouldn't  be  much  good  to  him, 
and  saying  he  hoped  she'd  get  it  if  any 
body  did,  and  asking  her  —  if  she  did  get 
it — to  have  some  extry  nice  touches  put  on 
the  board. 

Well,  will  you  believe  it?    When  Hill  give 
that  Hen  his  chance  she  begun  to  cry  over 
it!    She  knew  it  wouldn't  do  to  cry  hard — - 
49 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

seeing  what  a  mess  it  would  make  with  her 
color  when  the  tears  got  running — and  so  she 
pulled  herself  up  quick  and  mopped  her  eyes 
dry  with  her  pocket-handkerchief.  And  then 
she  let  out  with  all  four  legs  at  once,  like  a 
Colorado  mule,  and  everlastingly  gave  it  to 
all  hands!  It  was  just  like  the  Hen,  being  so 
good-hearted,  and  thinking  so  much  of  Hill, 
to  fire  up  like  that  about  Santa  Fe's  pool  on 
when  he'd  get  his  medicine ;  and  all  the  boys 
knowed  that  beside  the  address  she  was 
making  to  the  whole  congregation  Santa  Fe* 
was  going  to  get  another,  and  a  worse  one, 
when  she  had  him  off  where  she  could  play 
out  to  him  a  lone  hand.  But  the  boys 
didn't  mind  the  jawing  she  give  'em — except 
they  was  a  little  ashamed,  knowing  putting 
such  a  rig  on  Hill  was  a  mean  thing  to  do — 
and  I  guess  the  whole  business  would  have 
ended  right  there  (only  for  the  dressing-down 
Santa  F6  was  to  get  later)  if  Hart's  nephew 
hadn't  taken  it  into  his  head  to  chip  in — being 
drunker'n  usual,  and  a  fool  anyway — and 
so  started  what  turned  out  to  be  a  fresh  game. 
I  do  suppose  Hart's  nephew  was  about 
So 


Hart's    Nephew's    Hold-up 

the  meanest  ever  got  born.  Bill  Hart  was 
a  good  enough  fellow  himself,  and  how  he 
ever  come  to  have  such  a  God -forsaken 
chump  for  a  nephew  was  more'n  anybody 
could  tell.  Things  must  have  been  power 
ful  bad,  I  reckon,  on  his  mother's  side.  He 
was  one  of  the  blowing  kind,  with  nothing 
behind  his  blow;  and  his  feet  was  that  tender 
they  wasn't  fit  to  walk  on  anything  harder'n 
fresh  mush.  The  boys  all  the  time  was  put 
ting  up  rigs  on  him;  and  he'd  go  around 
talking  so  big  about  what  he  meant  to  do  to 
get  even  with  'em  you'd  think  he  was  going 
to  clean  out  the  whole  town.  But  he  took 
mighty  good  care  to  do  his  tall  talking  pro 
miscuous:  after  making  the  mistake  of  try 
ing  it  once  on  a  little  man  he  thought  he 
could  manage — a  real  peaceable  little  feller 
that  looked  like  he  wouldn't  stand  up  to  a 
kitten — and  getting  his  nose  and  his  mouth 
and  his  eyes  all  mashed  into  one.  The  little 
man  apologized  to  the  rest  for  doing  it  that 
way,  saying  he'd  a-been  ashamed  of  himself 
all  the  rest  of  his  life  if  he'd  gone  for  a  thing 
like  that  with  his  gun. 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

Well,  it  was  this  Hart's  nephew  —  like 
enough  he  had  some  sort  of  a  name  that 
belonged  to  him,  but  he  wasn't  worth  the 
trouble  of  finding  out  what  it  was  —  who 
chipped  in  when  the  Hen  took  to  her  tirad- 
ing,  and  so  give  things  a  new  turn.  Standing 
up  staggery,  and  talking  in  his  drunk  fool 
way,  he  told  her  the  road  across  to  Santa 
Fe  was  as  safe  as  a  Sunday-school;  and  he 
said  he'd  be  glad  to  be  in  Hill's  boots  and 
drive  that  coach  himself,  seeing  what  an 
interest  she  took  in  stage-drivers;  and  he 
asked  her,  sort  of  nasty,  how  she  managed 
to  get  along  for  company  when  Hill  was  at 
the  other  end  of  his  run.  Hart's  nephew  was 
drunker 'n  usual  that  night,  same  as  I've  said, 
or  even  he'd  a-knowed  he'd  likely  get  into 
trouble  talking  that  way  to  the  Hen. 

For  about  a  minute  things  looked  real 
serious.  The  Hen  straightened  right  up, 
and  on  the  back  of  her  neck  —  where  it 
showed,  she  not  being  fixed  red  there  to 
start  with — she  got  as  red  as  canned  toma 
toes;  and  some  of  the  boys  moved  a  little, 
sort  of  uneasy;  and  Santa  Fe  reached  out 
52 


Hart's    Nephew's    Hold-up 

over  the  piles  of  chips  for  his  gun.  He  didn't 
get  it,  because  the  Hen  saw  what  he  was 
doing  and  stopped  him  by  looking  at  him 
quick — and  knowing  what  Charley  was  when 
it  come  to  shooting,  you'll  know  the  Hen 
sent  that  look  at  him  about  as  fast  as  looks 
can  go!  The  game  had  stopped  right  there; 
and  it  was  so  quiet  in  the  room  you'd  a- 
thought  the  snoring  of  the  two  drunks  asleep 
on  benches  in  one  corner  was  a  thunder-storm 
coming  down  the  canon! 

Of  course  what  we  all  expected  the  Hen 
to  do  was  to  wipe  up  the  floor  with  Hart's 
nephew  by  giving  him  such  a  talking  to — she 
could  use  language,  the  Hen  could,  when  she 
started  in  at  it — as  would  make  him  sorrier'n 
usual  he'd  ever  been  born;  and  I  guess,  from 
the  looks  of  her,  that  was  what  at  the  first 
jump  she  meant  to  do.  But  she  was  a  quick- 
thinking  one,  the  Hen  was,  and  she  had  a 
way  of  getting  more  funny  notions  into  that 
good-looking  head  of  hers  than  any  other 
woman  that  ever  walked  around  on  this  earth 
alive — and  so  she  give  us  all  a  real  jolt  by 
playing  out  cards  we  wasn't  expecting  at  all. 
53 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

Just  as  sudden  as  a  wink,  she  sort  of  twitched 
and  twinkled — same  as  she  always  did  when 
she  was  up  to  some  new  bit  of  deviltry — and 
when  she  set  her  stamps  to  going  she  talked 
like  as  if  she  was  real  pleased.  She  didn't 
look,  though,  as  good-natured  as  she  talked 
— keeping  on  being  straightened  up,  and  hav 
ing  a  kind  of  setness  in  her  jaws  and  a  snap- 
piness  in  them  big  black  eyes  of  hers  that 
made  everybody  but  Hart's  nephew,  who 
was  too  drunk  to  know  anything,  dead  sure 
she  still  was  mad  all  the  way  through. 

"If  he'll  lend  'em  to  you,  and  I  guess  he 
will,  why  don't  you  get  into  Mr.  Hill's 
boots?"  she  said  to  Hart's  nephew.  And 
then  she  fetched  up  a  nice  sort  of  smile,  and 
said  to  him  real  friendly-sounding:  "I  do 
like  stage-drivers,  and  that's  a  fact  —  and 
there's  no  telling  how  pleasant  I'll  make 
things  for  you  if  you'll  take  the  coach  across 
to  Santa  Fe*  to-morrow  over  that  Sunday- 
school  road!  Will  you  do  it?"  And  then 
the  Hen  give  him  one  of  them  fetching  looks 
of  hers,  and  asked  him  over:  "Will  you  do 
it — to  oblige  me  f  " 

54 


Hart's    Nephew's    Hold-up 

Now  that  was  more  words  at  one  time  than 
the  Hen  had  dropped  on  Hart's  nephew  since 
he  struck  the  camp ;  and  as  the  few  he'd  ever 
got  from  her  mostly  hadn't  been  nice  ones, 
and  these  sounding  to  him — he  being  drunk 
— like  as  if  they  was  real  good-natured,  he 
was  that  pleased  he  didn't  know  what  to  do. 
Of  course  he  was  dead  set  on  the  Hen,  same 
as  everybody  else  was  —  she  truly  was  a 
powerful  fine  woman — and  it  just  was  funny 
to  see  how  he  tried  to  steady  himself  on  his 
legs  gentlemanly,  and  was  all  over  fool  smiles. 

So  he  said  back  to  the  Hen — speaking  slow, 
to  keep  his  words  from  tumbling  all  over  each 
other — he'd  just  drive  that  coach  across  to 
Santa  F6  a-hooping  if  Hill'd  lend  it  to  him; 
and  then  he  asked  Hill  if  he  might  have  it — 
and  told  him  he  could  trust  him  to  handle  it 
in  good  shape,  because  everybody  knowed  he 
was  a  real  daisy  at  driving  mules. 

For  a  fact,  Hart's  nephew  did  manage 
well  at  mule  -  driving.  It  was  one  of  the 
blame  few  things  that  fool  knowed  how  to 
do.  Denver  Jones  allowed  it  was  because 
he  was  related  to  'em — on  the  father's  side. 
55 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

"Just  for  this  once,  Mr.  Hill,"  said  the 
Hen,  speaking  coaxy.  And  she  got  her  head 
round  a  little— so  Hart's  nephew  couldn't  see 
what  she  was  doing — and  give  Hill  a  wink 
to  come  into  the  game. 

Hill  didn't  know  what  in  the  world  the 
Hen  was  up  to — nobody  ever  did  know  what 
that  Hen  was  up  to  when  once  she  got  started 
— but  he  reckoned  he  could  take  it  back  in 
the  morning  if  he  didn't  think  what  she 
wanted  would  answer,  so  in  he  come :  telling 
Hart's  nephew  he  might  have  the  coach  to 
do  anything  (Hill  was  a  kind  of  a  careless 
talker)  he  damn  pleased  with ;  and  saying  he'd 
have  it  hitched  up  and  ready  down  at  the 
deepo  next  morning,  same  as  usual,  so  he 
could  start  right  off  when  the  Denver  train 
come  in. 

When  things  was  settled,  all  quick  that 
way,  Hart's  nephew  took  to  squirming — he 
seeing,  drunk  as  he  was,  he'd  bit  off  a  blame 
sight  more'n  he  cared  to  chew.  But  with  the 
Hen  right  after  him — and  Hill  and  all  the 
rest  of  the  boys  backing  her,  they  being  sure 
she'd  dandy  cards  up  her  sleeve  for  the  queer 

56 


Hart's    Nephew's   Hold-up 

game  she  was  playing  —  he  couldn't  make 
nothing  by  all  his  squirms.  The  boys  got  at 
him  and  told  him  anybody  could  see  he  was 
afraid ;  and  the  Hen  got  at  him  and  told  him 
anybody  could  see  he  wasn't,  and  she  said 
she  knew  he  was  about  the  bravest  man 
alive ;  and  Hill  got  at  him  and  told  him  the 
road  had  improved  so,  lately,  the  nearest  to 
road-agents  you  ever  seen  on  it  was  burros 
and  cotton-tail  rabbits;  and  all  of  'em  to 
gether  kept  getting  more  drinks  in  him  right 
along.  So  the  upshot  of  it  was :  first  Hart's 
nephew  stopped  his  squirming;  and  then  he 
took  to  telling  what  a  holy  wonder  he  was  at 
mule-driving;  and  then  he  went  to  blowing 
the  biggest  kind — till  he  got  so  he  couldn't 
talk  no  longer — about  what  he'd  do  in  the 
shooting  line  if  any  road-agents  come  around 
trying  their  monkey-shine  hold-ups  on  him! 
So  it  ended,  good  enough,  by  their  getting 
him  fixed  tight  in  his  hole. 

The  boys  kept  things  going  with  him  pretty 
late  that  night,  and  when  he  showed  up  in 
the  morning  at  the  deepo — a  delegation  see 
ing  to  it  he  got  there,  and  Hill  having  the 
57 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

coach  all  ready  for  him — he  still  had  on  him 
a  fairly  sizable  jag.  But  he'd  sobered  up 
enough  —  having  slept  quite  a  little,  and 
soaked  his  head  at  the  railroad  tank  —  to 
want  to  try  all  he  knew  how  to  spill  himself 
out  of  his  job.  It  took  all  the  Hen  could  do 
— the  Hen  had  got  up  early  and  come  down 
to  the  deepo  a-purpose  to  attend  to  him — 
and  all  the  boys  could  do  helping  her,  to  get 
him  up  on  that  coach-box  and  boosted  off 
out  of  town. 

He  was  that  nervous  he  was  shaking  all 
over;  and  what  made  him  nervouser  was 
having  no  passengers — nobody  for  Santa  F6 
having  come  in  on  the  Denver  train.  It  was 
just  a  caution  to  see  his  shooting  outfit !  The 
box  of  the  coach  looked  like  it  was  a  gun- 
shop — being  piled  up  with  two  Winchesters 
and  a  double-barrelled  shot-gun  (the  shot 
gun,  he  said,  was  to  cripple  anybody  he 
didn't  think  it  was  needful  to  kill);  and 
beside  that  he  had  a  machete  some  Mexican 
lent  him  hooked  on  to  his  belt,  and  along 
with  it  a  brace  of  derringers  and  two  forty- 
fives.  Hill  was  the  only  one  who  didn't 
58 


Hart's    Nephew's    Hold-up 

laugh  fit  to  kill  himself  over  that  lay-out. 
Hill  said  Hart's  nephew  done  just  right  to 
take  along  all  the  guns  he  could  get  a-hold 
of;  and  Hill  said  he'd  attended  to  the  proper 
loading  of  every  one  of  them  weepons  him 
self. 

At  last — with  all  the  boys  laughing  away 
and  firing  fool  talk  at  him,  and  the  Hen 
keeping  him  up  to  the  collar  by  going  on 
about  how  brave  he  was — he  did  manage  to 
whip  up  his  mules  and  start  off.  Sick  was 
no  name  for  him — and  he  was  so  scared  stiff 
he  looked  like  he  was  about  ready  to  cry. 
After  he'd  got  down  the  slope,  and  across  the 
bridge  over  the  Rio  Grande,  and  was  walking 
his  mules  on  that  first  little  stretch  of  sandy 
road  on  the  way  to  La  Canada,  we  could  see 
him  reaching  down  and  fussing  over  his  lay 
out  of  guns. 

For  a  cold  fact,  there  was  a  right  smart 
chance  that  Hart's  nephew — and  'specially 
because  his  fool  luck  made  most  things  come 
to  him  contrairy — really  might  run  himself 
into  a  hold-up ;  and,  if  he  did,  it  was  like  as 
not  his  chips  might  get  called  in.  For  all 
59 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

Hill's  funny  talk  about  meeting  nothing 
worse 'n  burros  and  cotton-tail  rabbits,  that 
road  was  a  bad  road — and  things  was  liable 
to  occur.  Hill  himself  was  taking  his  chances, 
and  he  blame  well  knowed  it,  every  day. 
But  it  was  the  sense  of  the  meeting  that  if  a 
hold-up  of  that  coach  attended  by  fatalities 
was  coming,  it  couldn't  come  at  a  better  time 
than  when  Hart's  nephew  was  on  the  box — 
the  feeling  being  general  that  Hart's  nephew 
was  one  that  could  be  spared.  I  guess  Bill 
Hart  felt  just  the  same  about  it  as  the  rest 
of  us  —  leastways,  he  didn't  strain  himself 
any  trying  to  keep  his  nephew  home. 

Things  went  kind  of  nervous  that  day  at 
Palomitas.  All  the  boys  seemed  to  have  a 
feeling,  somehow,  there  was  going  to  be  hap 
penings;  and  we  all  just  sort  of  idled  round 
waiting  for  'em — taking  more  drinks  'n  usual, 
and  in  spite  of  the  drinks  getting  every 
minute  lower  and  lower  in  our  minds.  Ex 
cept  the  day  Hart's  aunt  spent  with  him, 
and  Santa  F6  Charley  run  the  kindergarten, 
I  reckon  it  was  the  quietest  day  we  ever  went 
60 


Hart's    Nephew's    Hold-up 

through — at  least  till  we  got  along  to  the 
clean-up  that  turned  Palomitas  into  what 
some  of  us  felt  was  a  blame  sight  too  much 
of  a  Sunday-school  town. 

One  reason  why  we  all  was  so  serious  was  be 
cause  the  Sage-Brush  Hen — who  started  most 
of  what  happened — didn't  show  up  as  usual; 
and  all  hands  got  a  real  jolt  when  some  of 
the  boys  went  off  to  the  Forest  Queen  to  ask 
about  her,  and  old  Tenderfoot  Sal  told  'em 
she  was  laying  down  in  her  room  and  wasn't 
feeling  well.  The  Hen  being  always  an  out- 
and-out  hustler,  and  hard  as  an  Indian  pony, 
her  not  being  well  shook  us  up  bad.  Every 
body  was  friends  with  her,  same  as  she  was 
friends  with  everybody — even  when  she  got 
into  one  of  her  tantrums,  and  took  to  jawing 
you,  you  couldn't  help  liking  her — and  know 
ing  she  wasn't  feeling  like  she  ought  to  feel 
put  a  big  lot  more  of  a  damper  on  all  hands. 
So  we  just  kept  on  taking  drinks  and  getting 
miserabler  with  'em — and  feeling  all  the  time 
surer  something  was  coming  bouncing  out  at 
us  from  round  the  corner,  and  wondering 
what  kind  of  a  stir-up  we  was  likely  to  have. 
61 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

It  was  along  about  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  the  cyclone  struck  us;  and  it  was 
such  a  small-sized  one,  when  we  did  get  it, 
we  didn't  know  whether  to  laugh  or  swear. 
But  the  cyclone  himself  didn't  think  there 
was  anything  small  about  him :  being  Hart's 
nephew — so  scared  to  death  all  the  few  wits 
he  ever  had  was  knocked  clean  out  of  him — 
who  come  into  Palomitas,  white  as  white 
wash,  riding  bareback  one  of  the  coach 
mules. 

He  just  sort  of  rolled  off  the  mule,  in  front 
of  the  Forest  Queen,  and  went  in  to  the  bar 
and  got  four  drinks  in  him  before  he  could 
speak  a  word — and  then  he  said  he'd  been 
held  up  at  the  Barranca  Grande  by  about 
two  hundred  road-agents  who'd  opened  up 
on  him  and  killed  all  the  mules  except  the 
one  he'd  got  away  on;  and  his  getting  away 
at  all,  he  said,  was  only  because  he'd  put  up 
such  a  fight  he'd  scared  'em — and  after  that 
because  they  couldn't  hit  him  when  once  he 
was  off,  and  had  the  mule  going  on  a  dead 
run.  Then  he  took  two  more  drinks,  and 
told  his  story  all  over  again;  and  as  it  was 
62 


Hart's    Nephew's    Hold-up 

about  the  same  story  both  times — and  he  so 
scared,  and  by  the  time  he  told  it  over  again 
so  set  up  with  his  drinks,  it  didn't  seem 
likely  he'd  sense  enough  left  to  be  lying — 
the  boys  allowed  like  enough  it  was  true. 

What  he  had  to  tell — except  he  piled  on 
more  road -agents  than  was  needed — was 
about  reasonable.  He  said  he'd  done  well 
enough  as  far  as  Pojuaque — where  he'd  had 
his  dinner  and  changed  mules,  same  as  usual, 
at  old  man  Bouquet's.  And  after  he'd  left 
Pojuaque  he'd  got  along  all  right,  he  said, 
except  he  had  to  go  slow  through  the  sand 
hills,  till  he  come  to  the  Barranca  Grande. 

It's  a  bad  place,  that  barranca  is.  The 
road  goes  sharp  down  into  it,  and  then  sharp 
up  out  of  it — and  both  banks  so  steep  you 
want  all  the  brakes  you've  got  to  get  to  the 
bottom  of  it,  and  more  mules  than  you're 
likely  to  have  to  get  to  the  top  on  the  other 
side. 

Well,  Hart's  nephew  said  he'd  just  got  the 

coach  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  barranca — 

he'd  took  the  last  of  the  slope  at  a  run,  he 

said,  and  was  licking  away  at  his  mules  for 

s  63 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

all  he  was  worth  to  start  'em  up  the  far  side — 
when  the  road-agents  opened  on  him,  being 
hid  in  among  the  cedar  -  bushes,  from  the 
top  of  the  bank  and  from  both  sides  of  the 
trail.  You  never  seen  such  a  blaze  of  shoot 
ing  in  all  your  life,  Hart's  nephew  said;  and 
he  said  before  he'd  a  chance  to  get  a  gun  up 
all  his  mules  was  hit  but  one.  He  said  he 
jumped  quick  from  the  box,  taking  both 
Winchesters  and  the  shot-gun  with  him, 
and  having  his  guns  and  the  derringers  in  his 
belt  beside,  and  got  behind  the  one  mule  that 
hadn't  been  downed  and  opened  up  on  the 
bushes  where  the  smoke  was  and  let  go  as 
hard  as  he  knowed  how.  He  said  he  must 
a-killed  more'n  twenty  of  'em,  he  guessed, 
judging  by  the  yelling  and  groaning,  and  by 
the  way  they  slacked  up  on  their  fire.  Their 
slacking  that  way  give  him  a  chance,  he  said, 
and  he  took  it — cutting  the  mule  loose  from 
the  harness  with  one  hand,  while  he  kept  on 
blazing  away  over  her  back  with  the  other; 
then  letting  'em  have  it  from  both  hands  for 
a  minute,  from  what  guns  he  had  left  that 
wasn't  empty,  to  sort  of  paralyze  'em;  and 
64 


Hart's    Nephew's    Hold-up 

then  getting  quick  on  the  mule's  back  and 
starting  her  down  the  barranca  on  a  dead 
run. 

He  had  balls  buzzing  all  about  him,  he 
said,  till  he  got  out  of  sight  around  a  turn  in 
the  barranca;  and  he  said  before  he  made 
that  turn  he  looked  back  once  and  saw  a  big 
feller  up  on  top  of  the  bank  letting  off  at 
him  as  hard  as  he  could  go.  Just  to  show 
he  still  had  fight  in  him,  he  said,  he  let  off 
back  at  him  with  his  two  derringers — which 
was  all  he  had  left  to  shoot  with — and  he 
was  pretty  sure,  though  of  course  it  was  only 
luck  did  it  with  the  mule  bouncing  him  so, 
the  big  feller  went  down.  He  was  a  tremen 
dous  tall  man,  he  said ;  and  he  guessed  he  was 
a  Greaser,  seeing  he  had  a  big  black  beard 
and  was  dressed  in  Greaser  clothes. 

He  said  he  didn't  mind  owning  up  he  was 
scared  bad  while  he  was  in  it;  but  he  said  he 
guessed  anybody  would  a-been  scared  with 
all  them  fellers  shooting  away  at  him — and, 
as  he'd  made  as  good  a  fight  of  it  as  he 
knowed  how,  he  didn't  think  he  was  to  be 
blamed  for  ending  by  running  from  such  a 
65 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

crowd.  He  kept  on  down  the  barranca  for 
about  two  miles,  he  said,  till  he  struck  the 
cross-trail  to  Tesuque;  and  he  headed  north 
on  that  till  he  got  to  Pojuaque — where  he  give 
the  mule  a  rest,  she  was  blowed  all  to  bits,  the 
mule  was,  he  said;  and  he  got  some  of  old 
man  Bouquet's  wine  in  him,  feeling  pretty 
well  blowed  to  bits  himself ;  and  then  he  come 
along  home. 

Well,  that  seemed  a  straight  enough 
story.  The  only  thing  in  it  you  really  could 
pick  on — except  the  number  of  road-agents, 
he  only  having  seen  one,  and  the  rest  be 
ing  his  scared  guesswork — was  the  mule  not 
being  hit  while  he  was  doing  all  that  firing 
over  the  back  of  her.  But  all  fights  has 
their  queer  chances  in  'em;  and  that  was  a 
chance  that  might  a-happened,  same  as 
others.  Of  course,  the  one  big  general  thing 
that  didn't  seem  likely  was  that  such  a  runt 
as  Hart's  nephew  should  have  stood  up  the 
way  he  said  he  did  to  as  much  as  one  road- 
agent — let  alone  to  the  half-dozen  or  so  that 
like  enough  had  got  at  him.  But  even  a 
thing  like  Hart's  nephew  sometimes  will  put 
66 


Hart's    Nephew's    Hold-up 

up  a  fight  when  it's  scared  so  bad  it  really 
don't  more'n  half  know  what  it's  doing — and 
the  boys  allowed  he  might  have  done  his 
fighting  that  way. 

That  the  size  of  his  scare  had  been  big 
enough  to  make  him  do  a'most  anything 
showed  up  from  the  way  he  kept  on  being 
scared  after  it  was  all  over — he  coming  into 
Palomitas  looking  like  a  wet  white  rag  when, 
by  his  own  showing,  he'd  been  out  of  reach 
of  anybody's  hurting  him  for  four  or  five 
hours  anyway,  and  had  had  a  chance  to  cool 
off  at  Pojuaque  while  he  was  loading  in  old 
man  Bouquet's  wine.  And  so,  taking  the 
story  by  and  large,  the  boys  allowed  that 
likely  most  of  it  was  true;  and  some  of  'em 
even  went  so  far  as  to  say  maybe  Hart's 
nephew  wasn't  more'n  half  rotten,  after  all. 

It  was  a  good  story  to  hear,  anyway;  and 
everybody  was  sorry  the  Hen  wasn't  around 
to  hear  it.  But  when  some  of  the  boys  tried 
to  rout  her  out,  Tenderfoot  Sal  stood  'em 
off  savage — telling  'em  to  go  about  their 
business,  and  the  Hen's  head  was  aching 
bad.  So  the  boys  had  to  take  it  out  in 
67 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

making  Hart's  nephew  keep  on  telling  all 
he  had  to  tell  over  and  over ;  and  he  was  glad 
of  the  chance  to,  and  did — till  he  got  so 
many  drinks  in  him  he  couldn't  tell  anything ; 
and  then  his  uncle,  with  Shorty  Smith  help 
ing,  took  him  off  home. 

Next  morning,  having  pretty  much  slept 
himself  sober,  Hart's  nephew  went  cavorting 
around  Palomitas — that  little  runt  did — like 
he  was  about  ten  foot  tall !  He  had  the  whole 
thing  over,  in  the  course  of  the  day,  a  dozen 
times  or  more;  and  as  he  kept  on  telling 
it — now  he  was  sober  enough  to  add  things 
on  —  it  got  to  be  about  the  biggest  fight 
with  road-agents  that  ever  was.  The  thing 
that  was  biggest  was  the  one  man  he  allowed 
he'd  really  seen.  Why,  Goliath  of  Gath 
wasn't  in  it  with  that  fellow,  according  to 
Hart's  nephew!  And  he  was  that  desperate 
and  dangerous  to  look  at,  he  said,  not  many 
men  would  a-had  the  nerve  to  try  at  him 
with  only  a  derringer — and,  what  was  more, 
to  bring  him  down.  It  was  well  along  in  the 
afternoon  before  we  got  it  for  a  fact  that 
68 


Hart's    Nephew's    Hold-up 

Hart's  nephew  really  had  killed  the  Greaser. 
The  thing  growed  that  way — from  his  first 
telling  how  he  thought  he'd  hit  him — until  it 
ended  with  the  Greaser  giving  a  yell  like  a 
stuck  pig;  and  then  staggering  and  throwing 
his  arms  up;  and  then  rolling  over  and  over 
down  the  side  of  the  barranca  to  the  bottom 
of  it — with  his  goose  cooked  all  the  way 
through! 

We  was  all  down  at  the  deepo  waiting  for 
the  Denver  train  to  pull  out,  same  as  usual, 
while  Hart's  nephew  was  doing  his  tallest 
talking — and  while  he  was  hard  at  it  some 
body  jumped  up  and  sung  out  the  Santa  Fe 
coach  was  coming  along  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river  from  Santa  Cruz.  Well,  that 
was  about  the  last  thing  anybody  was  ex 
pecting — and  everybody  hustled  up  off  the 
barrels  and  boxes  where  they  was  a-setting 
and  looked  with  all  their  eyes. 

Sure  enough,  there  the  old  coach  was — 
just  as  it  always  was,  about  that  time  of 
day — coming  along  as  natural  as  you  please. 
After  a  while,  it  keeping  on  getting  nearer, 
we  could  see  it  was  old  Hill  himself  up  on  the 
69 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

box  driving  his  mules  in  good  shape;  and 
when  he  got  along  near  the  bridge  we  could 
hear  him  swearing  at  'em —  Hill  did  use 
terrible  bad  language  to  them  mules  —  in 
just  his  ordinary  way.  Then  he  rattled  the 
mules  over  the  bridge  and  brought  'em  a- 
clipping  up  the  slope  this  side  of  it;  and  then 
in  another  minute  he  pulled  right  up  at  the 
deepo  platform  where  we  all  was.  Hill  was 
laughing  all  over  as  he  come  up  to  us,  and  so 
was  a  Mexican  who  was  setting  on  the  box 
with  him — a  nice  tidy  little  chap,  with  a 
powerful  big  black  beard  on  him — and  Hill 
sung  out:  "Have  you  boys  heard  about  the 
hold-up  ?"  And  then  he  and  the  little 
Mexican  got  to  laughing  so  it  was  a  wonder 
they  didn't  fall  off. 

Nobody  was  thinking  nothing  about  Hart's 
nephew — till  he  let  off  a  yell  and  sung  out: 
"  That's  the  man  held  the  coach  up !  Get  a 
bead  on  him  with  your  guns!"  And  he  got 
his  own  gun  out — and  like  enough  would 
a-done  some  fool  thing  with  it  if  Santa  Fe" 
Charley,  who  was  right  by  him,  hadn't 
smacked  him  and  jerked  it  out  of  his  hand. 
70 


Hart's    Nephew's    Hold-up 

Santa  Fe  smacked  so's  to  hurt  him;  and 
he  put  his  hand  up  to  his  face  and  said, 
kind  of  whimpery:  "What  are  you  hitting 
me  like  that  for,  Charley  ?  I  ain't  done  noth 
ing.  I  tell  you  that  man  on  the  box  with 
Hill  is  the  one  I  was  held  up  by  yesterday. 
He's  dangerous.  If  we  don't  get  a-hold  of 
him  quick  he'll  be  doing  something  to  us 
with  his  gun!"  And  Hart's  nephew  a'most 
broke  out  crying — being  all  worked  up,  and 
Santa  F6  having  smacked  him  blame  hard. 

At  that,  Denver  Jones  cut  in  with:  "I 
thought  you  said  the  one  you  was  held  up 
by  was  more'n  fourteen  foot  high,  and  you 
killed  him?  This  man  ain't  big  enough  to 
hold  up  a  baby  -  carriage  with  you  in  it — 
and  he's  sure  enough  alive.  What  are  you 
giving  us — you  blame  fool?'1 

There's  no  telling  what  kind  of  an  answer 
Denver  would  a-got  from  Hart's  nephew — 
for  he  hadn't  a  chance  to  give  him  no  answer 
at  all.  Just  then  Hill  did  the  talking,  and 
what  Hill  said  was:  "Boys,  he's  dead  right 
about  it.  This  here's  the  bad  man  that 
held  the  coach  up — and  as  I  was  there,  and 
7* 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

seen  it  done,  and  drove  the  coach  on  with 
five  mules  to  Santa  Fe  afterwards,  I  guess  I 
know!"  And  Hill,  and  the  little  Mexican 
with  him,  just  roared. 

When  Hill  could  talk  for  laughing,  he  went 
on:  "I'll  own  up  right  now,  boys,  I  was 
extry  over-precautious  when  I  fixed  up  with 
empty  shells  that  gun-shop  Hart's  nephew 
took  along  on  the  coach  when  he  started  out 
with  it.  For  all  the  harm  he  done  with  them 
guns,  I  might  just  as  well  a-left  'em  loaded 
the  usual  way.  He  was  that  scared  when 
this  here  gigantic  ruffian  stopped  him — I 
just  happened  to  be  a-setting  in  among  the 
cedar-bushes  at  the  time,  smoking  a  seegar 
and  looking  on  sort  of  casual — he  couldn't 
do  nothing  more'n  yell  out  he  wasn't  going 
to  shoot,  and  not  to  murder  him;  and  then 
down  he  jumped  from  the  box — me  a-smok- 
ing  away  looking  at  him,  and  this  here  ruf 
fian  a-shooting  his  Winchester  across  the  top 
of  the  coach  to  where  he  said  he  thought  he 
seen  a  jack-rabbit — and.  cut  out  the  near 
wheeler;  and  then  he  scrambled  up  anyhow 
on  that  mule's  back,  and  away  he  went  down 
72 


Hart's   Nephew's    Hold-up 

the  barranca  as  hard  as  hell!"  (Hill  oughtn't 
to  have  said  that  word.  But  he  was  careless 
in  his  talk,  Hill  was,  and  he  did). 

"But  Hart's  nephew  being  scared  that 
way/'  Hill  went  on,  a 'most  choking,  "don't 
count  one  way  or  the  other  when  you  get 
down  to  the  facts.  It  was  this  here  dangerous 
devil  that  done  that  wicked  deed,  and  he  done 
it  all  alone  by  his  dangerous  self.  At  the 
risk  of  my  life,  gentlemen,  I've  got  a-hold  of 
him  to  bring  him  to  justice,  and  here  he  is. 
And  I  guess  the  sooner  we  yank  him  up  to 
the  usual  telegraph-pole,  and  so  get  shut  of 
him,  the  sooner  it  11  be  safe  for  folks  to  trav 
el  these  roads.  He's  the  most  dangerous  I 
ever  see,"  said  Hill,  and  by  that  time  Hill 
was  so  near  busted  with  his  laughing  he  was 
purple;  "and  what  makes  him  such  a  par 
ticular  holy  terror  is  he  goes  disguised!" 
And  then — choking  so  he  could  hardly  speak 
plain — Hill  whipped  round  to  the  little  Mex 
ican  and  says  to  him:  "Get  your  disguise 
off  of  you,  you  murdersome  critter!  Get  it 
off,  I  say,  and  give  these  gentlemen  a  look 
at  the  terrible  wicked  face  of  you — before 
73 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

you  and  that  telegraph-pole  gets  to  being 
friends!" 

And  then  the  little  Mexican  switched  his 
big  black  beard  off — and  right  smack  there 
before  us  was  the  Sage -Brush  Hen!  You 
never  heard  such  a  yell  as  the  boys  give  in  all 
your  born  days! 

And  you  never  in  all  your  born  days  saw 
such  goings  on  as  there  was  that  night  at 
the  Forest  Queen !  Everybody  in  Palomitas 
was  right  there.  The  other  banks  and  bars 
hadn't  a  soul  left  in  'em  but  the  dealers  and 
the  drink -slingers —  and  they,  not  having 
nothing  to  do  at  home,  just  shut  up  shop 
and  come  along  too.  All  the  girls  from  all 
the  dance-halls  showed  up,  the  Hen  being 
real  down  popular  with  'em — which  told  well 
for  her — and  they  wanting  to  see  the  fun. 
Cherry  happened  to  be  down  from  his  ranch 
that  night ;  and  Becker  got  wind  of  what  was 
up  and  footed  it  across  from  Santa  Cruz  de 
la  Canada ;  and  word  was  sent  to  the  Elbogen 
brothers — they  was  real  clever  young  fellows, 
them  two  Germans — and  over  they  come 
74 


Hart's   Nephew's    Hold-up 

a-kiting  on  their  buck-board  from  San  Juan. 
I  guess  it  was  about  the  biggest  jam  the  Forest 
Queen  ever  had. 

Hart's  nephew  was  the  only  one  around 
the  place  who  hung  back  a  little,  but  he  got 
there  all  right — being  fished  out  of  an  empty 
flour-barrel,  where  he'd  hid  under  the  counter 
in  his  uncle's  store,  and  brought  along  by  the 
invitation  committee  sent  to  look  for  him  all 
dabbed  over  with  flour. 

Some  thought  the  way  they  used  Hart's 
nephew  that  night  was  just  a  little  mite  too 
hard  lines — he  not  being  let  to  have  as  much 
as  a  single  drink  in  him,  and  so  kept  plumb 
sober  while  the  Hen  give  him  his  medicine; 
but  all  hands  allowed — after  his  sassy  talk  to 
her — he  didn't  get  no  more'n  she'd  a  right  to. 
give.  She  just  went  at  him  like  a  blister,  the 
Hen  did ;  and  she  blistered  him  worse  because 
she  did  it  in  her  own  funny  way — telling  him 
she  did  just  dote  on  stage-drivers,  and  if  he 
really  wanted  to  please  her  he'd  take  Hill's 
job  regular;  and  leading  the  boys  up  to  him 
and  introducing  him,  lady-like,  as  "  the  hold 
up  hero  " ;  and  asking  him  to  please  to  tell  her 
75 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

all  about  that  fourteen-foot  road-agent  he'd 
killed ;  and  just  rubbing  the  whole  thing  in  on 
him  every  way  she  knowed  how.  Before 
the  Hen  got  done  with  him  he  was  about  the 
sickest  man,  Hart's  nephew  was,  you  ever 
seen!  But  I  guess  it  learned  him  quite  a 
little  about  how  when  he  talked  to  ladies  he'd 
better  be  polite. 

Fun  wasn't  no  name  that  night  for  that 
Hen!  She  kept  on  wearing  her  Mexican 
clothes,  and  she  did  look  real  down  cute  in 
'em;  and  she'd  got  a  God-forsaken  old  rusty 
pepper-box  six-shooter  from  somewheres, 
and  went  flourishing  it  about  saying  it  was 
what  she'd  held  up  the  coach  with ;  and  in  be 
tween  times,  when  she  wasn't  deviling  Hart's 
nephew,  she'd  go  round  the  room  drawing 
beads  on  the  boys  with  her  pepper-box,  and 
making  out  she  was  dangerous  by  putting 
her  big  black  beard  on,  and  standing  up  in 
attitudes  so  the  boys  might  see,  she  said, 
how  road-agenty  she  looked  and  bad  and 
bold!  Why,  the  Hen  did  act  so  comical 
that  night  all  hands  pretty  near  died  with 
their  laugh! 


IV 

SANTA  FE-  CHARLEY'S  KINDERGARTEN 

[HEN  Bill  Hart,  who  was  a 
good  fellow  and  kept  the  prin 
cipal  store  in  Palomitas,  got 
word  his  aunt  in  Vermont  was 
coming  out  to  pay  him  a  visit 
— it  being  too  late  to  stop  her,  and  he  know 
ing  he'd  have  to  worry  the  thing  through 
somehow  till  he  could  start  her  back  East 
again — he  was  the  worst  broke-up  man  you 
ever  seen. 

"Great  Scott!  Joe,"  Hart  said,  when  he 
was  telling  Cherry  about  it,  "  Palomitas  ain't 
no  sort  of  a  town  to  bring  aunts  to — and  it's 
about  the  last  town  I  know  of  where  Aunt 
Maria  '11  fit  in !  She's  the  old-fashioned  kind, 
right  up  to  the  limit,  Aunt  Maria  is.  Sewing- 
societies  and  Sunday-schools  is  the  hands  she 
77 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

holds  flushes  in;  and  she  has  the  preacher 
once  a  week  to  supper;  and  when  it  comes 
to  kindergartens — Hart  was  so  worked  up 
he  talked  careless— she 's  simply  hell!  What's 
a  woman  like  that  going  to  do,  I  want  to 
know,  in  a  place  like  this  —  that's  mainly 
made  up  of  saloons  and  dance-halls  and  faro- 
banks,  and  everybody  mostly  drunk,  and 
shooting-scrapes  going  on  all  the  time?  It 
just  makes  me  sick  to  think  about  it."  And 
Hart  groaned. 

Cherry  swore  for  a  while,  sort  of  friendly 
and  sociable — he  was  a  sympathetic  man, 
Cherry  was,  and  always  did  what  he  could 
to  help — and  as  Hart  was  too  far  gone  to 
swear  for  himself,  in  a  way  that  amounted 
to  anything,  hearing  what  Cherry  had  to 
say  seemed  to  do  him  good. 

"I'd  stop  her,  if  there  was  any  stop  to 
her,"  he  went  on,  in  a  minute  or  two,  speak 
ing  hopeless  and  miserable ;  "  but  there  ain't. 
She  says  she's  starting  the  day  after  she 
writes — having  a  chance  to  come  sudden  with 
friends — and  that  means  she's  most  here 
now.  And  there's  no  heading  her  off — be- 
78 


Santa   Fe  Charley's    Kindergarten 

cause  she  says  the  friends  she's  hooked  fast 
to  may  be  coming  to  Pueblo  and  may  be 
coming  to  Santa  Fe.  But  it  don't  make  any 
difference,  she  says,  as  she's  told  she  can  get 
down  easy  by  the  railroad  from  Pueblo,  or 
she  can  slide  across  to  Palomitas  by  '  a  short 
and  pleasant  coach-ride' — that's  what  she 
calls  it — from  Santa  Fe*. 

"That's  all  she  tells  about  her  coming. 
The  rest  of  what's  in  her  letter  is  about  how 
glad  she'll  be  to  see  me,  and  about  how  glad 
she  knows  I'll  be  to  see  her — being  lonely  so 
far  from  my  folks,  and  likely  needing  my 
clothes  mended,  and  pleased  to  be  eating 
some  of  her  home-made  pies.  It's  just  like 
Aunt  Maria  to  put  in  things  like  that.  You 
see,  she  brought  me  up — and  she's  never  got 
out  of  her  head  I'm  more'n  about  nine  years 
old.  What  I  feel  like  doing  is  going  out  in 
the  sage-brush  and  blowing  the  top  of  my 
fool  head  off,  and  letting  the  coyotes  eat 
what's  left  of  me  and  get  me  out  of  the 
way!" 

Hart  really  did  look  as  if  he  meant  it, 
Cherry  said  afterwards.  He  was  the  misera- 
6  79 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

blest  looking  man,  he  said,  he'd  ever  seen 
alive. 

Cherry  said  he  begun  to  have  a  notion, 
though,  while  Hart  was  talking,  how  the 
thing  might  be  worked  so  there  wouldn't  be 
no  real  trouble  if  it  could  be  fixed  so  Hart's 
aunt  wouldn't  stay  in  Palomitas  more'n 
about  a  day;  and  he  come  right  on  down  to 
the  Forest  Queen  to  see  if  he  could  get  the 
boys  to  help  him  put  it  through.  He  left 
Hart  clearing  out  the  room  he  kept  flour  and 
meal  in — being  the  cleanest — trying  to  rig 
up  for  his  aunt  some  sort  of  a  -bunking-place. 
He  was  going  to  give  her  his  own  cot  and 
mattress,  he  said;  and  he  could  fit  her  out 
with  a  looking-glass  and  a  basin  and  pitcher 
all  right  because  he  kept  them  sort  of  things 
to  sell;  and  he  said  he'd  make  the  place 
extra  tidy  by  putting  a  new  horse-blanket  on 
the  floor.  Seeing  his  way  to  getting  a  grip 
on  that  much  of  the  contract,  Cherry  said, 
seemed  to  make  him  feel  a  little  less  bad. 

Cherry  waited  till  the  deal  was  over,  when 
he  got  to  the  Forest  Queen;  and  then  he 
asked  Santa  Fe  Charley  if  he'd  let  him  speak 
80 


Santa    Fe  Charley's    Kindergarten 

to  the  boys  for  a  minute  before  the  game 
went  on.  He  was  always  polite  and  obliging, 
Santa  Fe  was,  and  he  said  of  course  he  might ; 
and  he  rapped  on  the  table  with  his  derrin 
ger  for  order,  and  said  Mr.  Cherry  had  the 
floor.  Charley  was  old-fashioned  in  his  ways 
of  fighting.  He- always  had  a  six-shooter  in 
his  belt,  same  as  other  folks ;  but  he  said  he 
kept  it  mainly  for  show.  Derringers,  he  said, 
was  better  and  surer  —  because  you  could 
work  'em  around  in  your  pocket  while  the 
other  fellow  was  getting  his  gun  out,  and 
before  he  was  ready  for  business  you  could 
shoot  him  right  through  your  pants.  Later 
on,  it  was  that  very  way  Santa  Fe  shot  Hart. 
But  he  always  was  friendly  with  Hart  till 
he  did  shoot  him ;  and  it  was  more  his  back 
ing  than  anything  else — 'specially  when  it 
come  to  the  kindergarten — that  made  Cher 
ry's  plan  for  helping  Hart  out  go  through. 

When  the  game  was  stopped,  and  the  boys 
was  all  listening,  Cherry  told  about  the  hole 
Hart  was  in  and  allowed  it  was  a  deep  one; 
and  he  said  it  was  only  fair — Hart  having 
done  good  turns  for  most  everybody,  one 
8; 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

time  and  another  —  his  friends  should  be 
willing  to  take  some  trouble  to  get  him  out 
of  it.  Hart's  aunt,  he  said,  come  from  a 
quiet  part  of  Vermont,  and  likely  would  be 
jolted  bad  when  she  struck  Palomitas  if 
things  was  going  the  ordinary  way — she  be 
ing  elderly,  and  like  enough  a  little  set  in  her 
ways,  and  not  used  much  to  crazy  drunks, 
and  shooting-matches,  and  such  kinds  of 
lively  carryings-on.  But  she'd  only  stay  one 
day,  or  at  most  a  day  and  a  half — Hart  hav 
ing  agreed  to  take  her  right  back  East  him 
self,  if  she  couldn't  be  got  rid  of  no  other 
way — and  that  gave  'em  a  chance  to  fix 
things  so  her  feelings  wouldn't  be  hurt, 
though  doing  it  was  going  to  be  hard  on  all 
hands.  And  then,  having  got  the  boys 
worked  up  wondering  what  he  was  driving 
at,  Cherry  went  ahead  and  said  he  wanted 
'em  to  agree — just  for  the  little  while  Hart's 
aunt  was  going  to  stay  there — to  run  Palo 
mitas  like  it  was  a  regular  back-East  Sunday- 
school  town.  He  knew  he  was  asking  a  good 
deal,  he  said,  but  he  did  ask  it — and  he  ap 
pealed  to  the  better  feelings  of  the  gentlemen 
82 


Santa  Fe   Charley's    Kindergarten 

assembled  around  that  faro-table  to  do  that 
much  to  get  Bill  Hart  out  of  his  hole.  Then 
Cherry  said  he  wasn't  nobody's  orator,  but 
he  guessed  he'd  made  clear  what  he  wanted 
to  lay  before  the  meeting ;  and  he  said  he  was 
much  obliged,  and  had  pleasure  in  setting  up 
drinks  for  the  crowd. 

As  was  to  be  expected  of  'em,  all  the  boys 
— knowing  Hart  for  a  square-acting  man, 
and  liking  him — tumbled  right  off  to  Cherry's 
plan.  Santa  Fe*  said — this  was  after  they'd 
had  their  drinks — he  s 'posed  he  was  chair 
man  of  the  meeting,  and  he  guessed  he  spoke 
the  sense  of  the  meeting  when  he  allowed 
Mr.  Cherry's  scheme  was  about  the  only  way 
out  for  their  esteemed  fellow-citizen,  Mr. 
Hart,  and  it  ought  to  go  through.  But  as 
it  was  a  matter  that  seriously  affected  the 
comfort  and  convenience  of  everybody  in 
Palomitas,  he  said,  it  was  only  square  to 
take  a  vote  on  it — and  so  he'd  ask  all  in 
favor  of  Mr.  Cherry's  motion  to  say  "Ay." 
And  everybody  in  the  room — except  the  few 
that  was  asleep,  or  too  drunk  to  say  anything 
— said  "Ay"  as  loud  as  they  knowed  how. 
83 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

"Mr.  Cherry's  motion  is  carried,  gentle 
men,'*  Santa  Fe*  said;  "and  I  will  now  ap 
point  a  committee  to  draught  a  notice  to  be 
posted  at  the  deepo,  and  to  call  around  at 
the  other  banks  and  saloons  in  the  town  and 
notify  verbally  our  fellow  -  citizens  of  the 
action  we  have  taken — and  I  will  ask  the 
Hen  here  kindly  to  inform  the  other  ladies 
of  Palomitas  of  our  intentions,  and  to  request 
their  assistance  in  realizing  them.  She  had 
better  tell  them,  I  reckon,  that  the  way  they 
can  come  to  the  front  most  effectively  in 
this  crisis  is  by  keeping  entirely  out  of  sight 
in  the  rear." 

The  Sage-Brush  Hen,  along  with  some  of 
the  other  girls,  had  come  in  from  the  back 
room — where  the  dancing  was — to  find  out 
what  the  circus  was  about;  and  when  they 
caught  on  to  what  Palomitas  was  going  to 
be  like  when  Hart's  aunt  struck  it  they  all 
just  yelled. 

"  You've  come  out  well  once  as  the  Baptist 

minister,  Charley,"  the  Hen  said,  shaking  all 

over;  "and  I  reckon  you  can  do  it  again — 

only  it  won't  be  so  easy  showing  off  the  new 

84 


"WROTE  OUT  A  NOTICE  THAT  WAS  TACKED  UP  ON  THE  DEEPO 

DOOR" 


Santa    Fe   Charley's   Kindergarten 

church  and  the  parsonage  by  daylight  as  it 
was  in  the  dark.  About  us  girls  laying  low, 
maybe  you're  right  and  maybe  you're  not 
right.  Anyway,  don't  you  worry  about  us. 
All  I'll  say  is,  it  won't  be  the  ladies  in  this 
combine  that  '11  give  anything  away!"  And 
she  and  the  other  girls  got  so  to  laughing  over 
it  they  all  of  'em  had  to  set  down. 

Cherry  was  more  pleased  than  a  little  the 
way  things  had  gone — and  he  said  so  to  the 
boys,  and  set  up  drinks  all  round  again. 
Then  he  and  Abe  Simons — they  was  the  com 
mittee  to  do  it — wrote  out  a  notice  that  was 
tacked  up  on  the  deepo  door  and  read  this 
way: 

TO  THE  CITIZENS  OF  PALOMITAS 

Mr.  William  Hart's  aunt  is  coming  to 
pay  him  a  visit,  and  will  strike  this  town 
either  by  the  Denver  train  to-morrow 
morning  or  the  Santa  Fe  coach  to-morrow 
afternoon. 

She  is  a  perfect  lady,  and  it  is  ordered 
that  during  her  stay  in  Palomitas  this 
town  has  got  to  behave  itself  so  her  feel 
ings  won't  be  hurt.  She  is  to  be  took 
care  of  and  given  a  pleasant  impression. 
All  fights  and  drunks  must  be  put  off  till 

85 


Santa    Fe's  Partner 

she's  gone.  Persons  neglecting  to  do  so 
will  be  taken  out  into  the  sage-brush  by 
members  of  the  committee,  and  are  likely 
to  get  hurt. 

Mr.  Hart  regrets  this  occurrence  as 
much  as  anybody,  and  agrees  his  aunt's 
visit  sha'n't  last  beyond  a  day  and  a  half 
if  she  comes  down  from  Denver,  and  only 
one  day  if  she  comes  in  from  Santa  F6. 

(Signed)  THE  COMMITTEE. 


When  Cherry  got  a-hold  of  Hart  and  told 
him  what  the  town  had  agreed  to  do  for  him 
he  was  that  grateful — being  all  worked  up, 
anyway — he  pretty  near  cried. 

As  it  turned  out,  Hart's  a^int  come  in  on 
Hill's  coach  from  Santa  Fe* — her  friends  hav 
ing  gone  down  that  way  by  the  Atchison — 
and  as  Hill  had  been  at  the  meeting  at  the 
Forest  Queen  he  was  able  to  give  things  a 
good  start.  Hill  always  was  a  friendly  sort 
of  a  fellow,  and — except  he  used  terrible  bad 
language,  which  he  said  come  of  his  having 
to  drive  mules  —  he  was  a  real  first-class 
ladies'  man. 

Hill  said  he  spotted  Hart's  aunt  the  minute 
36 


Santa   Fe   Charley's   Kindergarten 

he  set  his  eyes  on  her  waiting  for  the  coach 
at  the  Fonda,  there  not  being  likely  to  be 
more'n  one  in  the  Territory  of  that  kind. 
She  was  a  trig  little  old  lady,  dressed  up  in 
black  clothes  as  neat  as  wax,  he  said,  with  a 
little  black  bonnet  setting  close  to  her  head ; 
and  she  wore  gold  specs  and  had  a  longish 
nose.  But  she'd  a  real  friendly  look  about 
her,  he  said;  and  while  she  spoke  a  little 
precise  and  particular  she  wasn't  a  bit  stuck- 
up,  and  seemed  to  be  taking  things  about  as 
they  happened  to  come  along.  When  he 
asked  her  if  she  wouldn't  set  up  on  the  box 
with  him,  so  she  could  see  the  country,  she 
said  that  was  just  what  would  suit  her;  and 
up  she  come,  he  said,  as  spry  as  a  queer  little 
bird.  Then  he  whipped  up  his  mules — being 
careful  not  to  use  any  language — and  got  the 
coach  started,  and  begun  right  off  to  be 
agreeable  by  telling  her  he  guessed  he  had 
the  pleasure  of  knowing  her  nephew,  and 
asking  her  if  she  wasn't  the  aunt  of  Mr. 
William  Hart. 

Well,  of  course  that  set  things  to  going 
pleasant    between    'em;     and    when    she'd 
87 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

allowed  she  was  Hart's  aunt,  and  said  she 
was  glad  to  meet  a  friend  of  his,  she  started 
in  asking  all  the  questions  about  Bill  and 
about  Palomitas  she  knowed  how  to  ask. 

Hill  said  he  guessed  that  day  they  had  to 
lay  off  the  regular  recording  angel  and  put 
a  hired  first-class  stenographer  on  his  job — 
seeing  how  no  plain  angel,  not  writing  short 
hand,  could  a-kept  up  with  all  the  lies  he 
felt  it  his  duty  to  tell  if  he  was  going  to 
bring  Bill  through  in  good  shape  and  keep 
up  the  reputation  of  the  town.  It  wasn't 
square  to  charge  them  lies  up  to  him,  any 
way,  Hill  said,  seeing  he  only  was  playing 
Cherry's  hand  for  him;  and  he  said  he  hoped 
they  was  put  in  Cherry's  bill.  By  the  time 
he'd  got  through  with  his  fairy  tales,  he  said, 
he'd  give  Hart  such  a  character  he  didn't 
know  him  himself;  and  he'd  touched  up 
Palomitas  till  he'd  got  it  so  it  might  a-been 
a  town  just  outside  Boston — only  he  allowed 
they  was  sometimes  troubled  with  hard  cases 
passing  through;  and  he  told  her  of  course 
she'd  find  things  kind  of  half-baked  and  noisy 
out  there  on  the  frontier.  And  she  must  re- 
88 


Santa   Fe   Charley's   Kindergarten 

member,  he  told  her,  that  all  the  folks  in  the 
town  was  young — young  men  who'd  brought 
their  young  wives  with  'em,  come  to  hustle 
in  a  new  country — and  she  mustn't  mind  if 
things  went  livelier  'n  the  way  she  was  used 
to  back  East. 

Hill  said  she  said  she  wasn't  expecting  to 
find  things  like  they  was  at  home,  and  she 
guessed  she'd  manage  all  right — seeing,  she 
always  got  on  well  with  young  people,  and 
wasn't  a  bit  set  in  her  own  ways.  And  she 
said  she  was  as  pleased  as  she  was  surprised 
to  find  out  the  kind  of  a  town  Palomitas  was 
— because  her  nephew  William's  letters  had 
led  her  to  think  it  had  a  good  many  bad 
characters  in  it;  and  he'd  not  mentioned 
any  church  but  the  Catholic  one  where  the 
natives  went ;  and  as  to  the  Bible  Class  and  the 
Friendly  Aid  Society,  he'd  never  said  a  word 
about  'em  at  all.  She  went  on  talking  so 
cheerful  and  pleasant,  Hill  said,  it  give  him 
creeps  in  his  back;  and  he  got  so  rattled  the 
last  half  of  the  run — coming  on  from  Poju- 
aque,  where  they'd  had  dinner  at  old  man 
Bouquet's — he  hardly  knowed  what  he'd  told 
89 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

and  what  he  hadn't,  and  whether  he  was 
standing  on  his  head  or  his  heels. 

Being  that  way,  he  made  the  only  break 
that  gave  trouble  afterwards.  She  asked 
him  if  there  was  a  school  in  Palomitas,  and 
he  told  her  there  wasn't,  because  all  the  folks 
in  town  was  so  young — except  the  natives, 
who  hadn't  no  use  for  schools — they  hadn't 
any  children  big  enough  to  go  to  one.  And 
then  she  said  sudden,  and  as  it  seemed  to 
him  changing  the  subject:  "Isn't  there  a 
kindergarten?"  Hill  said  he'd  never  heard 
tell  of  such  a  concern;  but  he  sized  it  up  to 
be  some  sort  of  a  fancy  German  garden — like 
the  one  Becker'd  fixed  up  for  himself  over 
to  Santa  Cruz — and  he  said  he  allowed,  from 
the  way  she  asked  about  it,  it  was  what 
Palomitas  ought  to  have.  So  he  told  her 
there  was,  and  it  was  the  best  one  in  the 
Territory — and  let  it  go  at  that.  He  said 
she  said  she  was  glad  to  hear  it,  as  she  took 
a  special  interest  in  kindergartens,  and  she'd 
go  and  see  it  the  first  thing. 

Hill  said  he  knowed  he'd  put  his  foot  in  it 
somehow;  but  as  he  didn't  know  how  he'd 
90 


Santa   Fe   Charley's   Kindergarten 

put  his  foot  in  it,  he  just  switched  her  off  by 
telling  her  about  the  Dorcas  Society.  He 
had  the  cards  for  that,  he  said,  because  his 
mother  'd  helped  run  a  Dorcas  Society  back 
East  and  he  knowed  what  he  was  talking 
about.  The  Palomitas  one  met  Thursdays, 
he  told  her,  at  the  Forest  Queen.  That  was 
the  principal  hotel,  he  told  her,  and  was  kept 
by  Mrs.  Major  Rogers,  who  was  an  officer's 
widow  and  had  started  the  society  to  make 
clothes  for  some  of  the  Mexican  poor  folks — 
and  he  said  it  was  a  first-rate  charity  and 
worked  well.  It  tickled  him  so,  he  said, 
thinking  of  any  such  doings  at  the  Forest 
Queen — with  old  Tenderfoot  Sal,  of  all  peo 
ple,  bossing  the  job! — he  had  to  work  off  the 
laugh  he  had  inside  of  him  by  taking  to  lick 
ing  his  mules. 

But  it  went  all  right  with  the  little  old 
lady;  and  she  was  that  interested  he  had 
to  strain  himself,  he  said,  making  up  more 
stories  about  it — till  by  good  luck  she  took 
to  telling  him  about  the  Dorcas  Society  she 
belonged  to  herself,  back  home  in  Vermont; 
and  was  so  full  of  it  she  kept  things  going 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

easy  for  him  till  they'd  crossed  the  bridge 
over  the  Rio  Grande  and  was  coming  up  the 
slope  into  the  town  at  a  walk. 

Up  at  the  top  of  the  slope  Santa  Fe*  Charley 
stood  a-waiting  for  'em — looking,  of  course, 
in  them  black  clothes  and  a  white  tie  on,  like 
he  was  a  sure-enough  preacher — and  as  the 
coach  come  along  he  sung  out,  pleasant  and 
friendly:  " Good-afternoon,  Brother  Hill.  I 
missed  you  at  the  Bible  Class  last  evening. 
No  doubt  you  were  detained  unavoidably, 
and  it's  all  right.  But  be  sure  to  come  next 
Friday.  We  don't  get  along  well  without 
you,  Brother  Hill."  And  Santa  F6  took  his 
hat  off  stylish  and  made  the  old  lady  the 
best  sort  of  a  bow. 

Hill  caught  on  quick  and  played  right  up 
to  Santa  Fe's  lead.  "That's  our  minister, 
Mr.  Charles,  ma'am.  The  one  I've  been 
telling  you  about,"  he  said.  "He's  just 
friendly  and  sociable  like  that  all  the  time. 
He  looks  after  the  folks  in  this  town  closer'n 
any  preacher  I  ever  knowed."  A  part  of 
that,  Hill  said,  was  dead  certain  truth — see 
ing  as  Santa  Fe*  had  his  eyes  out  straight 
92 


Santa   Fe   Charley's   Kindergarten 

along  for  everybody  about  the  place  who'd 
a  dollar  in  his  pocket,  and  wasn't  satisfied 
till  he'd  scooped  in  that  dollar  over  his  table 
at  the  Forest  Queen. 

"There's  the  new  church  we're  building," 
Hill  went  on,  as  they  got  to  the  top  of  the 
slope  and  headed  for  the  deepo.  "It  ain't 
much  to  look  at  yet,  the  spire  not  being  put 
on ;  and  it  won't  show  up  well,  even  when  it 
gets  its  spire  on  it,  with  churches  East.  But. 
we're  going  to  be  satisfied  with  it,  seeing  it's 
the  best  we  can  do.  You'll  be  interested  to 
know,  ma'am,  your  nephew  give  the  land." 

"William  hasn't  let  on  anything  about  it," 
Hart's  aunt  said,  looking  pleased  all  over. 
"But  what  in  the  world  is  a  church  doing 
with  a  railroad  track  running  into  it,  Mr. 
Hill?" 

Hill  said  he'd  forgot  about  the  track  when 
he  settled  to  use  the  new  freight-house  for 
church  purposes ;  but  he  said  he  pulled  him 
self  together  quick  and  told  her  the  track 
was  temp'ry  —  put  in  so  building  material 
could  unload  right  on  the  ground.  And  then 
he  took  to  talking  about  how  obliging  the 
93 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

railroad  folks  had  been  helping  'em — and 
kept  a-talking  that  way  till  he  got  the  coach 
to  the  deepo,  and  didn't  need  to  hustle  mak 
ing  things  up  any  more.  He  said  he  never 
was  so  thankful  in  his  life  as  he  was  when  his 
stunt  was  done.  He  was  just  tired  out,  he 
said,  lying  straight  ahead  all  day  over  thirty 
miles  of  bad  road  and  not  being  able  once  to 
speak  natural  to  his  mules. 

Hart  was  waiting  at  the  deepo,  on  the 
chance  his  aunt  would  come  in  on  the  coach ; 
and  when  she  saw  him  she  give  a  little  squeal, 
she  was  so  pleased,  and  hopped  down  in  no 
time  off  the  box — she  was  as  brisk  as  a  bee 
in  her  doings — and  took  to  hugging  him  and 
half  crying  over  him  just  like  he  was  a  little 
boy. 

"Oh,  William,"  she  said,  "I  am  so  happy 
getting  to  you!  And  I'm  happier'n  I  ex 
pected  to  be,  finding  out  how  quiet  and 
respectable  Palomitas  is  —  not  a  bit  what 
your  letters  made  me  think  it  was — and  such 
real  good  people  living  in  it,  and  everything 
but  the  queer  country  and  the  queer  mud 
94 


Santa   Fe  Charley's   Kindergarten 

houses  just  like  it  is  at  home.  Mr.  Hill  has 
been  telling  me  all  about  it,  coming  over, 
and  about  this  new  church  you're  building 
that  you  gave  the  lot  for.  To  think  you've 
never  told  me!  Oh,  William,  I  am  so  glad 
and  so  thankful  that  out  here  in  this  wild 
region  you've  kept  serious-minded  and  are 
turning  out  such  a  good  man!" 

Hart  looked  so  mixed  up  over  the  way  his 
aunt  was  talking,  and  so  sort  of  hopeless, 
that  Hill  cut  in  quick  and  give  him  a  lift. 
"He's  not  much  at  blowing  about  himself, 
your  nephew  ain't,  ma'am, "  Hill  said.  "  Why, 
he  not  only  give  the  land  for  the  church  over 
there" — and  Hill  pointed  at  the  freight- 
house,  so  Hart  could  ketch  on — "  but  it  was 
him  got  the  Company  to  lay  them  temp'ry 
tracks,  so  the  building  stuff  could  be  took 
right  in.  He's  going  to  give  a  melodeon, 
too." 

"Dear  William!"  Hart's  aunt  said.  "It 
rejoices  my  heart  you're  doing  all  these 
good  deeds — and  all  the  others  Mr.  Hill's 
been  telling  me  about.  I  must  kiss  you 
again." 

95 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

"Oh,  what  I've  done  ain't  nothing," 
Hart  said,  pulling  himself  together  while  she 
was  kissing  him.  "Land's  cheap,  cheap  as 
it  can  be,  out  here ;  and  I  give  the  Company 
such  a  lot  of  freight  they're  more'n  willing  to 
oblige  me;  and  as  to  the  melodeon — -" 

Hart  sort  of  gagged  when  he  got  to  the 
melodeon,  and  Santa  Fe"  Charley  —  who'd 
come  up  while  they  all  was  talking  away  to 
gether — reached  across  the  table  and  played 
his  hand.  "As  to  the  melodeon,  Mr.  Hart," 
Santa  Fe  put  in,  "you  said  that  being  in 
business  you  could  get  it  at  a  discount  off. 
But  that  does  not  appreciably  lessen  your 
generosity,  Mr.  Hart';  and  your  aunt" — 
Santa  Fe  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed  hand 
some — "is  justified  in  taking  pride  in  your 
good  deeds.  I  am  glad  to  tell  her  that  in  her 
nephew  our  struggling  church  has  its  stanch- 
est  pillar  and  its  strongest  stay." 

"Yes,  that's  the  way  it  is  about  the 
melodeon,  Aunt  Maria,"  Hart  said,  kind  of 
weak  and  mournful.  "Being  in  business, 
I  get  melodeons  at  such  a  discount  off  that 
giving  'em  away  ain't  nothing  to  me  at  all 


Santa  Fe  Charley's    Kindergarten 

And  now  I  guess  we'd  better  be  getting  along 
home.  It's  a  mighty  mean  home  to  take 
you  to,  Aunt  Maria ;  but  there's  one  comfort — 
as  you'll  find  out  when  I  get  the  chance  to 
talk  to  you — you  won't  have  to  stay  in  it 
long." 

There  was  a  lot  of  the  boys  standing  round 
on  the  deepo  platform  watching  the  show, 
and  they  all  took  their  hats  off  respectful — 
following  the  lead  Santa  Fe  give  'em — as 
Hart  started  away  up  the  track,  to  where  his 
store  was,  with  his  aunt  on  his  arm.  The 
town  looked  like  some  place  East  keeping 
Sunday :  the  Committee  having  talked  strong 
as  to  what  they'd  do  if  things  wasn't  quiet, 
and  having  rounded  up — and  coralled  in  a 
back  room  Denver  Jones  lent  the  use  of — the 
few  who'd  got  drunk  as  usual  because  they 
had  to,  and  so  had  to  be  took  care  of  that 
way.  It  was  a  June  evening,  and  the  sun 
about  setting;  and  somehow  it  all  was  so 
sort  of  peaceful  and  uncommon — with  every 
body  in  sight  sober,  and  no  fighting  anywhere, 
and  that  little  old  lady  going  along,  believing 
Palomitas  was  like  that  always,  instead  of 
97 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

the  hell  on  earth  it  was — some  of  us  more'n 
half  believed  we'd  gone  to  sleep  and  got 
stuck  in  a  dream. 

Things  was  made  dreamier  by  the  looks 
and  doings  of  the  Sage-Brush  Hen.  She  was 
the  only  lady  of  the  town,  the  Hen  was,  who 
took  part  in  the  ceremonies — and  likely  it 
was  just  about  as  well,  for  the  sake  of  keeping 
clear  of  surprises,  the  rest  of  'em  laid  low. 
As  Hart  and  his  aunt  went  off  together  up 
the  track,  the  Hen  showed  up  coming  along 
down  it;  and  she  was  dressed  that  pretty 
and  quiet — in  the  plainest  sort  of  a  white 
frock,  and  wearing  a  white  sun-bonnet — 
and  was  looking  so  demure,  like  she  could 
when  she'd  a  mind  to,  nobody  knowed  at 
first  who  she  was. 

"  Being  the  minister's  wife,  I've  been  tak 
ing  the  liberty,  Mr.  Hart,"  she  said,  smiling 
pleasant,  when  the  three  of  'em  come  to 
gether  on  the  track,  "of  looking  around  a 
little  up  at  your  place  to  see  that  everything 
has  been  fixed  for  your  company  the  way  it 
should  be."  (She  hadn't  been  nowheres  near 
Hart's  place,  it  turned  out  —  but  Gospel 
98 


Santa  Fe  Charley's   Kindergarten 

truth  wasn't  just  what  there  was  most  of  that 
day  in  Palomitas.)  She  went  right  on  down 
the  track  without  stopping,  passing  on  Hart's 
side,  and  saying  to  him:  "My  husband  ex 
pects  you  as  usual  at  the  Friendly  Aid  meet 
ing  to-morrow  evening,  Mr.  Hart.  We  never 
seem  half  to  get  along,  you  know,  when 
you're  not  there." 

Hart's  aunt  give  a  little  jump,  and  said: 
"Why,  William,  that  must  be  Mrs.  Charles, 
the  minister's  wife.  What  a  pleasant-spoken 
lady  she  is !  We  met  her  husband  just  as  we 
were  driving  into  town." 

Hart  said  he  come  pretty  near  saying 
back  to  her,  "The  hell  you  did '."-—Hart 
talked  that  careless  way,  sometimes — but  he 
said  he  pulled  up  before  it  got  out,  and  all 
he  did  say  was,  "Oh!" 

"She  must  be  at  the  head  of  the  Dorcas 
Society  that  Mr.  Hill  was  telling  me  about," 
Hart's  aunt  went  on;  "and  like  enough  she 
manages  the  kindergarten,  too.  I  suppose, 
William,  it's  not  surprising  you  haven't  said 
anything  in  your  letters  about  the  Dorcas 
Society — for  all  you  were  so  liberal  in  helping 
99 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

it — but  I  do  think  you  might  have  told  me 
about  the  kindergarten,  knowing  what  a 
hobby  of  mine  kindergartens  are.  I  want  to 
go  and  see  it  to-morrow  morning,  the  first 
thing." 

"  It's — it's  not  in  running  order  just  now," 
Hart  said.  "Most  of  the  children  was  took 
sick  with  the  influenza  last  week,  and  there's 
whooping-cough  and  measles  about,  and  so 
the  school  committee  closed  it  down.  And 
they  had  to  stop,  anyway,  because  they're 
going  to  put  a  new  roof  on.  I  guess  it  won't 
blow  in  again  for  about  a  month — or  maybe 
more.  In  fact,  I  don't  know — you  see,  it 
wasn't  managed  well,  and  got  real  down  un 
popular — if  it  '11  blow  in  again  at  all.  I'm 
sorry  you  won't  be  able  to  get  to  it,  Aunt 
Maria.  Maybe  it  '11  be  running  if  you  happen 
to  come  out  again  next  year." 

"Why,  how  queer  that  is,  William!"  Hart's 
aunt  said.  "  Mr.  Hill  told  me  it  was  the  best 
kindergarten  in  New  Mexico.  But  of  course 
you  know.  Anyhow,  I  can  see  the  school 
room  and  the  school  fixtures,  and  Mrs. 
Charles  can  tell  me  about  it  when  I  go  to  the 

100 


Santa   Fe   Charley's   Kiiid-ergarteft 

Dorcas  Society — and  that  '11  do  most  as  well. 
Of  course  I  must  get  to  the  Dorcas  Society. 
Mrs.  Charles  will  take  me,  I'm  sure.  It  meets, 
Mr.  Hill  says,  every  Thursday  afternoon." 

"Did  he  say  where  it  was  meeting  now?" 
Hart  asked.  He  was  getting  about  desperate, 
he  told  Cherry  afterwards ;  and  what  he  want 
ed  most  was  a  chance  to  mash  Hill's  fool  head 
for  putting  him  in  such  a  lot  of  holes. 

"Of  course  he  did,  William,"  said  Hart's 
aunt;  "and  I'm  surprised  you  have  to  ask— 
seeing  what  an  interest  you  take  in  the 
Society,  and  how  you've  helped  it  along.  It 
was  just  lovely  of  you  to  give  them  all  those 
goods  out  of  your  store  to  make  up  into 
clothes." 

"That — that  wasn't  anything  to  do," 
Hart  said.  "  What's  in  the  store  comes  with 
a  big  discount — same  as  melodeons.  Some 
times  I  feel  as  if  I  was  saving  money  giving 
things  away." 

"  You  can  talk  about  your  generosity  just 
as  you  please,  William,"  she  went  on.  "/ 
think  it's  noble  of  you.  And  Mr.  Hill  said 
that  Mrs.  Major  Rogers  —  who  keeps  the 

101 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

Forest  Queen  Hotel,  he  said,  and  lets  the 
Society  have  a  room  to  meet  in  for  nothing — 
said  it  was  noble  of  you,  too.  I  want  to  get 
to  know  Mrs.  Major  Rogers  right  off.  She 
must  be  a  very  fine  woman.  She's  an  officer's 
widow,  Mr.  Hill  says,  and  a  real  lady,  for  all 
she  makes  her  living  keeping  a  hotel  out 
here  on  the  frontier.  If  she's  a  bit  like  that 
sweet-looking  Mrs.  Charles  I  know  we'll 
get  along.  I'm  surprised,  William,  you've 
never  told  me  what  pleasant  ladies  live  here. 
It  must  make  all  the  difference  in  the  world. 
Don't  you  think  it  would  do  for  me  not  to  be 
formal,  but  just  to  go  to  Mrs.  Major  Rogers1 
hotel  to-morrow  and  call?" 

"I  guess — well,  I  guess  you  hadn't  better 
go  right  off  the  first  thing  in  the  morning, 
Aunt  Maria,"  Hart  said.  Thinking  of  his 
aunt  going  calling  at  the  Forest  Queen  and 
running  up  against  Tenderfoot  Sal,  he  said, 
gave  him  the  regular  cold  shakes.  "And 
come  to  think  of  it,"  he  said,  "it's  no  use 
your  going  to-morrow  at  all.  Mrs. — Mrs. 
Major  Rogers,  as  I  happen  to  know,  went  up 
to  Denver  yesterday;  and  she  won't  be  back, 

IQ3 


Santa    Fe  Charley's   Kindergarten 

she  told  me,  before  some  time  on  in  the  end 
of  next  week — likely  as  not,  she  said,  she 
wouldn't  come  then." 

By  that  time  they'd  got  along  to  Hart's 
store,  and  Hart  said:  "Here's  where  I 
live,  Aunt  Maria.  You  see  what  sort  of  a 
place  it  is.  But  I've  done  my  best  to  fix 
things  for  you  as  well  as  I  know  how.  Come 
right  along  in — and  when  we've  had  supper 
we've  got  to  have  a  talk." 

Along  about  ten  o'clock  that  night  Hart 
come  down  to  the  Forest  Queen  looking  pale 
and  haggard,  and  he  was  that  broke  up  he 
had  to  get  three  drinks  in  him  before  he 
could  say  a  word.  Everybody  was  so  in- 
terested,  wanting  to  hear  what  he  had  to  tell 
'em,  he  didn't  need  to  ask  to  have  the  game 
stopped — it  just  stopped  of  its  own  accord. 

When  he'd  had  his  third  drink,  and  was 
beginning  to  feel  better,  he  said  he  couldn't 
thank  everybody  enough  for  the  way  they'd 
behaved ;  and  that  his  aunt  had  gone  to  bed 
tired  out;  and  he'd  been  talking  with  her 
steady  for  two  hours  getting  things  settled; 
103 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

and  she'd  ended  by  agreeing  she'd  start  back 
East  with  him  the  next  night — he  having 
made  out  he'd  smash  in  his  business  if  he 
waited  a  minute  longer — and  they  was  going 
by  the  Denver  train.  And  he'd  got  her  fixed 
he  said,  so  she'd  keep  quiet  through  the 
morning — as  she  was  going  right  at  mending 
his  stockings  and  things  the  first  thing  when 
she  got  up;  and  after  that  she  was  full  of 
getting  to  work  with  canned  peaches  and 
making  him  a  pie. 

"  But  what's  going  to  happen  in  the  after 
noon,"  he  said,  "  the  Lord  only  knows!  That 
blasted  fool  of  a  Ben  Hill" — Hart  spoke  just 
that  bitter  way  about  it — "hasn't  had  no 
more  sense  'n  to  go  and  tell  her  this  town's 
full  of  kindergartens,  and  she's  so  worked  up 
there's  no  holding  her,  as  kindergartens  hap 
pens  to  be  the  fullest  hand  she  holds.  I've 
allowed  we  have  one — things  being  as  they 
was,  I  had  to — but  I've  told  her  it's  out  of 
order,  and  the  children  laid  up  with  whoop 
ing-cough,  and  the  teacher  sick  a-bed,  and 
the  outfit  damaged  by  a  fire  we  had,  and — 
and  the  Lord  knows  what  I  haven't  told  her 
104 


Santa   Fe  Charley's   Kindergarten 

about  the  damn  thing."  (Hart  was  that 
nervous  he  couldn't  help  speaking  that  way.) 
"  But  all  I 've  said  hasn't  made  no  difference. 
She's  just  dead  set  on  getting  to  what's  left 
of  that  kindergarten,  and  I  can't  budge  her. 
See  it  she  will,  she  says ;  and  I  guess  the  up 
shot  of  Hill's  chuckle-headed  talk  '11  be  to 
waste  all  the  trouble  we've  took  by  landing 
us  in  the  biggest  give-away  that  ever  was!" 
And  Hart  called  for  another  drink,  and  had 
to  set  down  to  take  it — looking  pale. 

All  the  boys  felt  terrible  bad  about  the 
hole  Hart  was  in ; .  and  they  felt  worse  be 
cause  none  of  'em  hadn't  no  notion  what 
a  kindergarten  did — when  it  did  anything — 
and  that  made  'em  more  ashamed  Palomitas 
hadn't  one  to  show.  Only  Becker — Becker  'd 
happened  to  come  over  from  Santa  Cruz  that 
night — sized  it  up  right;  and  Becker  shook 
his  head  sort  of  dismal  and  said  there  wasn't 
no  use  even  thinking  about  it  —  and  that 
looked  like  a  settler,  because  Becker  seemed 
to  know.  Nobody  didn't  say  nothing  for  a 
minute  or  two ;  and  then  Ike  Williams  spoke 
up— he  was  the  boss  carpenter  on  the  freight- 


Santa    Fe's  Partner 

house  job,  Ike  was — and  said  if  what  was 
wanted  could  be  made  out  of  boards,  and 
made  in  a  hurry,  he'd  lay  off  the  freight-house 
gang  the  next  morning  and  engage  to  have 
one  ready  by  noon. 

Santa  Fe  Charley 'd  been  sitting  still  think 
ing,  not  saying  a  word.  He  let  out  a  big 
cuss — and  Charley  wasn't  given  to  cussing — 
when  Ike  made  his  offer ;  and  then  he  banged 
his  hand  down  on  the  table  so  hard  he  set 
the  chips  to  flying,  and  he  said:  "Mr.  Hart, 
don't  you  worry — we're  going  to  put  this  job 
through!" 

Everybody  jumped  up  at  that — some  of 
'em  scrambling  for  the  dropped  chips — ask 
ing  Santa  F6  what  he  meant  to  do.  But 
Charley  wouldn't  answer  'em.  "Just  you 
trust  to  Ike  and  me,  Bill,"  he  said.  "We'll 
fix  your  kindergarten  all  right — only  you 
keep  on  telling  your  aunt  it  ain't  a  good  one, 
and  how  most  of  it  got  burned  up  in  the  fire. 
It's  luck  you  let  on  to  her  there 'd  been  a 
fire — that  makes  it  as  easy  as  rolling  off  a 
log.  All  you've  got  to  do  is  to  bring  her 
down  here  at  four  o'clock  to-morrow  after- 
106 


Santa    Fe   Charley's   Kindergarten 

noon — you'd  better  till  then  keep  her  in  the 
house,  mending  you  up  and  making  you  all 
the  pies  she  has  a  mind  to — and  when  she 
gets  here  the  kindergarten  11  be  here,  too!" 

"Bring  her  here — to  the  Forest  Queen?" 
Hart  said,  speaking  doubtful. 

"  Bring  her  here — right  here  to  the  Forest 
Queen,"  Santa  Fe  said  back  to  him.  "You 
know  pretty  well  I  do  things  when  I  say  I  '11 
do  'em — and  this  thing  '11  be  done !  Come  to 
think  of  it,"  he  said,  "maybe  it  11  be  better 
if  I  go  to  your  place  and  fetch  her  along  my 
self.  It  11  help  if  I  do  a  little  talking  to  her 
on  the  way  down.  Yes,  we'll  fix  it  that  way. 
You  and  she  be  ready  at  four  o'clock,  and 
1 11  come  for  you.  That  11  give  her  an  hour 
here,  and  an  hour  to  go  home  and  eat  her 
supper — and  that  11  get  us  to  train-time,  and 
then  the  circus  11  close  down.  Now  you  go 
home  and  go  to  bed,  Bill.  You're  all  beat 
out.  Just  you  leave  things  to  Ike  and  me 
and  go  right  home." 

Charley  wouldn't  say  another  word — so 
Hart  had  one  more  drink,  for  luck,  and  then 
he  went  home.     He  looked  real  relieved. 
107 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

When  Santa  F6  went  to  Hart's  place,  next 
afternoon,  he  had  on  his  best  black  clothes, 
with  a  clean  shirt  and  a  fresh  white  tie;  and 
he  was  that  serious-looking  you'd  have  sized 
him  up  for  a  sure-enough  fire-escape  any 
where  on  sight.  Hart  hadn't  had  no  trouble, 
it  turned  out,  keeping  his  aunt  to  home — 
she'd  been  working  double  tides  ever  since 
she  got  up,  he  said,  making  him  things  to 
eat  and  fussing  over  his  clothes.  They  was 
all  ready  when  Santa  Fe*  come  along,  and 
the  three  of  'em  stepped  off  down  the  track 
together — Hart  having  his  aunt  on  his  arm, 
and  Santa  Fe  walking  Oil  ahead  over  the 
ties.  Most  of  the  boys  was  standing  about 
watching  the  procession ;  but  the  girls — the 
Hen,  likely,  having  told  'em  to — was  keeping 
on  keeping  quiet,  and  got  what  they  could  of 
it  peeping  through  chinks  in  the  windows 
and  doors. 

"Why,  where  are  all  the  ladies,  Mr. 
Charles  ?"  Hart's  aunt  asked.  "  Except  that 
sweet  young  wife  of  yours,  it's  just  the 
mortal  truth  I  haven't  seen  a  single  lady 
since  I  came  into  this  town!" 


Santa   Fe   Charley's  Kindergarten 

"They  usually  keep  in-doors  at  this  time 
of  day,  madam,"  Charley  said.  "They're 
attending  to  their  domestic  duties — and — and 
most  of  them,  about  now,  are  wont  to  be 
enjoying  the  tenderest  happiness  of  mother 
hood  in  nursing  their  little  babes." 

"It's  very  creditable  they're  such  good 
housewives,  I'm  sure,"  said  Hart's  aunt; 
"only  I  do  wish  I  could  have  met  some  of 
'em  and  had  a  good  dish  of  talk.  But  we'll 
be  finding  your  wife  at  the  kindergarten,  I 
s'pose,  and  I'll  have  the  pleasure  of  a  talk 
with  her.  I've  been  looking  forward  all  day 
to  meeting  her,  Mr.  Charles.  She  has  one  of 
the  very  sweetest  faces  I  ever  saw." 

"  I  deeply  regret  to  tell  you,  madam,"  said 
Santa  Fe,  "that  my  wife  was  called  away 
suddenly  last  evening  by  a  telegram.  She 
had  no  choice  in  the  matter.  Her  call  was 
to  minister  to  a  sick  relative  in  Denver,  and 
of  course  she  left  immediately  on  the  night 
train.  Her  disappointment  at  not  meeting 
you  was  great.  She  had  set  her  heart  on 
showing  you  over  our  poor,  half -ruined  kin 
dergarten — the  fire  did  fearful  damage — but 
109 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

her  duty  was  too  manifest  to  be  ignored,  and 
she  had  to  leave  that  pleasant  task  to  me." 

"Now  that  is  just  too  bad  I"  said  Hart's 
aunt.  "At  least,  Mr.  Charles,  I  don't  mean 
that  exactly.  It's  very  kind  of  you  to  take 
her  place,  and  I'm  delighted  to  have  you. 
But  I  did  so  like  your  wife's  looks,  and  I've 
been  hoping  she  and  I  really  'd  have  a  chance 
to  get  to  be  friends." 

That  brought  'em  to  the  Forest  Queen, 
and  Charley  was  more'n  glad  he  was  let  out 
from  making  more  excuses  why  his  wife  had 
shook  her  kindergarten  job  so  sudden. 
"Here  we  are,"  he  said.  "But  I  must  warn 
you  again,  madam,  that  our  little  kinder 
garten  is  only  the  ghost  of  what  it  was 
before  the  fire.  We  are  hoping  to  get  a  new 
outfit  shortly.  On  the  very  morning  after 
the  disaster  a  subscription  was  started — your 
nephew,  as  always,  leading  in  the  good  work 
— and  that  afternoon  we  telegraphed  East 
our  order  for  fresh  supplies.  By  the  time 
that  the  epidemic  of  whooping-cough  has 
abated — I  am  glad  to  say  that  all  the  children 
are  doing  well — we  trust  that  our  flock  of 
no 


Santa   Fe   Charley's   Kindergarten 

little  ones  again  can  troop  gladly  to  receive 
the  elementary  instruction  that  they  delight 
in,  and  that  my  wife  delights  to  impart." 

"Why,"  said  Hart's  aunt,  "the  kinder 
garten's  in  Mrs.  Major  Rogers'  hotel  —  the 
Forest  Queen!" 

"After  the  fire,  Mrs.  Major  Rogers  most 
kindly  gave  us  the  free  use  of  one  of  her 
largest  rooms,"  Santa  Fe  said;  "and  we  are 
installed  here  until  our  own  building  can  be 
repaired.  I  have  spared  you  the  sight, 
madam,  of  that  melancholy  ruin.  I  confess 
that  when  I  look  at  it  the  tears  come  into 
my  eyes." 

"I  don't  wonder,  I'm  sure,"  said  Hart's 
aunt.  "  I  think  I'd  cry  over  it  myself.  But 
what  a  real  down  good  woman  Mrs.  Major 
Rogers  must  be!  Mr.  Hill  told  me  she  gives 
the  Dorcas  Society  the  use  of  a  room,  too." 

"  She  is  a  noble,  high-toned  lady,  madam," 
Santa  Fe*  said.  "Since  her  cruel  bereave 
ment  she  has  devoted  to  good  works  all  the 
time  that  she  can  spare  from  the  arduous 
duties  by  which  she  wins  her  livelihood. 
Words  fail  me  to  say  enough  in  her  praise! 

8  III 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

Come  right  in,  madam — but  be  prepared  for 
a  sad  surprise!" 

Hart  said  he  didn't  know  how  much  sur 
prised  his  aunt  was — but  he  said  when  he 
got  inside  the  Forest  Queen,  into  the  bar-room 
where  Charley's  faro  layout  usually  was,  he 
was  so  surprised  himself  he  felt  as  if  he'd 
been  kicked  by  a  mule! 

There  was  the  little  tables  for  drinks,  right 
enough ;  and  out  of  the  way  in  a  corner  with 
a  cloth  over  it,  same  as  usual,  was  the  wheel. 
(It  was  used  so  little,  the  wheel  was — nobody 
but  Mexicans,  now  and  then,  caring  for  it — 
Santa  Fe*  owned  up  afterwards  he'd  forgot  it 
clean!)  That  much  of  the  place  was  just  as 
it  always  was;  and  the  big  table,  taking  up 
half  the  room,  looked  so  natural — with  the 
chairs  up  to  it,  and  layouts  of  chips  at  all 
the  places — that  Hart  was  beginning  to  think 
Santa  Fe  was  setting  up  a  rig  on  him :  'till  he 
seen  what  a  lot  of  queer  things  besides  chips 
there  was  on  the  table — and  knowed  they 
wasn't  no  game  layout,  and  so  sized  Tem  up 
to  be  what  Charley'd  scrambled  together 
when  he  set  out  to  play  his  kindergarten 

112 


Santa    Fe   Charley's   Kindergarten 

hand.  And  when  he  noticed  the  bar  was 
curtained  off  by  sheets  he  said  he  stopped 
worrying  —  feeling  dead  certain  Charley 'd 
dealt  himself  all  the  aces  he  needed  to  take 
him  through. 

"  You  don't  need  to  be  told,  madam,  being 
such  an  authority  on  kindergartens,"  said 
Santa  Fe,  "  how  inadequate  is  our  little  out 
fit  for  educational  purposes.  But  you  must 
remember  that  the  fire  destroyed  almost 
everything,  and  that  we  have  merely  impro 
vised  what  will  serve  our  purposes  until  the 
new  supply  arrives.  We  succeeded  in  saving 
from  the  conflagration  our  large  table,  and 
our  chairs,  and  most  of  the  small  tables — 
used  by  individual  children  having  backward 
intellects  and  needing  especial  care.  But 
nearly  all  of  the  other  appliances  of  the  school 
were  lost  to  us,  and  damage  was  done  to  much 
of  what  we  saved.  Here,  you  see,  is  a  little 
table  with  only  three  legs  left,  the  fourth 
having  been  burned.'*  And,  sure  enough, 
Hart  said,  Santa  Fe  turned  up  one  of  the 
little  tables  for  drinks  and  one  of  its  legs  was 
burnt  off!  "All  of  our  slates,"  he  went 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

ahead,  "similarly  were  destroyed — and  how 
much  depends  on  slates  in  a  kindergarten 
you  know,  madam,  better  than  I  do.  Here 
is  all  that  is  left  of  one  of  them" — and  he 
showed  Hart's  aunt  a  bit  of  burnt  wood  that 
looked  like  it  had  been  part  of  a  slate-frame 
afore  it  got  afire. 

"Dear  me!  Dear  me!'*  said  Hart's  aunt. 
"It's  just  pitiful,  Mr.  Charles!  I  wonder 
how  you  can  get  along  at  all." 

"It  is  not  easy  getting  along,  madam," 
Santa  Fe"  said.  "But  we  have  managed  to 
supply  ourselves  with  a  layout — I — that  is — 
I  mean  we  have  provided  ourselves  with 
some  of  the  simpler  articles  of  most  impor 
tance  ;  and  with  these,  for  the  time  being,  we 
keep  our  little  pupils'  hands  and  minds  not 
unprofitably  employed.  For  instance,  the 
ivory  disks  of  various  colors — which  you  see 
arranged  upon  the  table  as  the  pupils  have 
left  them — serve  very  successfully  to  eluci 
date  the  arithmetical  processes  of  numera 
tion,  addition,  and  subtraction;  and  the 
more  intelligent  children  are  taught  to  ob 
serve  that  the  disks  of  varying  colors  are 
114 


Santa   Fe   Charley's   Kindergarten 

varyingly  numbered — white,  i;  red,  5,  and 
blue,  10 — and  so  are  encouraged  to  identify 
a  concrete  arbitrary  figure  with  an  abstract 
thought." 

11  That's  something  new  in  kindergartening, 
Mr.  Charles,"  said  Hart's  aunt;  "and  it's  as 
good  as  it  can  be.  I  mean  to  put  it  right 
into  use  in  our  kindergarten  at  home.  Do 
you  get  the  disks  at  the  places  where  they 
sell  kindergarten  supplies?" 

"  Really,  madam,  I  cannot  tell  you," 
Santa  Fe  said.  "  You  see,  we  ordered  what 
would  be  needed  through  an  agent  East,  and 
these  came  along.  I  must  warn  you,  how 
ever,  that  they  are  expensive." 

Hart  said,  remembering  what  them  chips 
had  cost  him,  one  time  and  another,  he 
allowed  to  himself  Charley  was  right  and 
they  was  about  as  expensive  as  they  could 
be! 

"Our  other  little  appliances,  madam," 
Santa  Fe  went  on,  "are  just  our  own  make 
shift  imitations  of  what  you  are  familiar 
with — building-blocks,  and  alphabet-blocks, 
and  dissected  pictures,  and  that  sort  of 
"5 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

thing.  Our  local  carpenter  made  the  blocks 
for  us,  and  we  put  on  the  lettering  ourselves 
— as,  indeed,  its  poor  quality  shows.  The 
dissected  pictures  I  am  rather  proud  of,  be 
cause  Mrs.  Charles  may  be  said  to  have 
invented  them."  (It  really  was  the  Hen 
who'd  made  'em,  it  turned  out.)  "The 
method  is  simple  enough  when  you  have 
thought  of  it,  of  course — and  no  doubt  I 
value  my  wife's  work  unduly  because  I  take 
so  much  pride  in  all  that  she  does.  You  see, 
she  just  pasted  pictures  from  the  illustrated 
papers  on  boards;  and  then  Mr.  Williams — 
our  carpenter,  you  know — sawed  the  boards 
into  little  pieces.  And  there  you  are!" 

"Now  that  was  bright  of  her!"  said  Hart's 
aunt.  "If  you  don't  mind,  I'll  put  one  of 
the  pictures  together  myself  right  now.  I 
want  to  see  how  it  looks,  made  that  home- 
fashioned  way." 

"I  fear  that  our  time  is  getting  a  little 
short,  madam,"  said  Santa  Fe,  in  a  hurry. 
"I've  got  my  sermon  to  finish  this  afternoon, 
and  I  must  be  going  in  a  few  minutes  now." 
The  fact  of  the  matter  was  he  had  to  call  her 
116 


Santa   Fe   Charley's   Kindergarten 

off  quick.  It  seems  the  Hen  hadn't  had  any. 
thing  but  Police  Gazettes  to  work  on — and 
while  the  bits  looked  all  right  jumbled  up, 
being  put  together  they  wouldn't  have  suited 
nohow  at  all. 

"Of  course  I  mustn't  keep  you,"  said 
Hart's  aunt.  "  You've  been  more  than  kind, 
Mr.  Charles,  to  give  me  so  much  of  your 
valuable  time  as  it  is.  I'm  just  like  a  child 
myself,  wanting  to  play  with  dissected  pict 
ures  that  way!  But  I  must  say  that  her 
making  them  is  a  thing  for  your  wife  to  be 
proud  of — and  I  hope  you'll  tell  her  so  for 


me." 


"  I  guess  we'd  better  be  going  now,  Aunt 
Maria,"  Hart  said.  "Mr.  Charles  has  his 
sermon  to  write,  you  know,  and  I  want  you 
to  have  time  to  eat  your  supper  comfortable 
before  we  start  down  to  the  train." 

"I  do  suppose  we  must  go,"  said  Hart's 
aunt.  "  But  I  hate  to,  William,  and  that's 
a  fact!  Just  because  it's  so  make-shifty, 
this  is  the  most  interesting  kindergarten  I've 
ever  been  in.  When  I  get  home  I  shall  really 
and  truly  enjoy  telling  the  folks  about  it 
117 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

And  I  know  how  pleased  they'll  be,  the  same 
as  I  am,  by  finding  what  earnest-working 
men  and  women  can  do — out  here  in  this 
rough  country — with  so  little  to  go  on  but 
their  wits  and  their  own  good  hearts!" 

And  then  she  faced  round  sudden  on 
Santa  F6  and  said:  "I  see  you  have  your 
table  covered  with  green,  Mr.  Charles. 
What's  that  for?  You've  so  many  good 
notions  about  kindergartens  that  I'd  like  to 
know." 

"Well,  you  see,  madam,  that  green  cover 
is  a — it's  a  sort  of — "  Charley  went  slow  for 
a  minute,  and  then  got  a-hold  of  the  card  he 
wanted  and  put  it  down  as  smooth  as  you 
please.  "That  is  an  invention,  madam,"  he 
said,  "of  my  good  wife's,  too.  Out  here, 
where  the  sun  is  so  violent,  she  said  we  must 
have  a  green  cover  on  the  table  or  the  glare 
would  be  ruining  all  our  dear  little  innocent 
children's  eyes.  And  it  has  worked,  madam, 
to  a  charm!  Some  of  the  children  who  had 
bad  eyes  to  start  with  actually  have  got 
well!" 

"Well,  I  do  declare!"  said  Hart's  aunt 


Santa   Fe   Charley's    Kindergarten 

"That  wife  of  yours  thinks  so  sensible  she 
just  beats  all!" 

Santa  Fe  give  Hart  a  look  as  much  as  to 
say  he'd  got  to  get  his  aunt  away  somehow — 
seeing  she  was  liable  to  break  out  a'most 
anywheres,  and  he'd  stood  about  all  he  could 
stand.  Hart  allowed  what  Charley  wanted 
was  reasonable,  and  he  just  grabbed  her  by 
the  arm  and  begun  to  lug  her  to  the  door. 
But  she  managed  to  give  Santa  Fe*  one  more 
jolt,  and  a  bad  one,  before  she  was  gone. 

"I  haven't  seen  what  this  is,"  she  said; 
and  she  broke  off  from  Hart  and  went  to 
where  the  wheel  was  standing  covered  up  in 
the  corner.  "  I  s'pose  I  may  look  at  it,  Mr. 
Charles?"  she  said — and  before  either  of  'em 
could  get  a-hold  of  her  to  stop  her  she  had 
off  the  cloth.  "For  the  land's  sake!"  she 
said.  "Whatever  part  of  a  kindergarten 
have  you  got  here?" 

Hart  said  afterwards  his  heart  went  down 
into  his  boots,  being  sure  they'd  got  to  a  give 
away  of  the  worst  sort.  Santa  F6  said  he 
felt  that  way  for  a  minute  himself;  then  he 
said  he  ciphered  on  it  that  Hart's  aunt  likely 
119 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

wouldn't  know  what  she'd  struck — and  he 
braced  up  and  went  ahead  on  that  chance. 

"Ah,"  he  said — speaking  just  as  cool  as 
if  he  was  calling  the  deal  right  among  friends 
at  his  own  table— "that  is  one  of  the  new 
German  kindergarten  appliances  that  even 
you,  madam,  may  not  have  seen.  We  re 
ceived  it  as  a  present  from  a 'rich  German 
merchant  in  Pueblo,  who  was  grieved  by  our 
pitiable  plight  and  wanted  to  do  what  he 
could  to  help  us  after  the  fire." 

"  But  what  in  the  name  of  common-sense," 
said  Hart's  aunt,  "do  you  do  with  it — with 
all  those  numbers  around  in  circles,  and  that 
little  ball?" 

Charley  had  himself  in  good  shape  by  that 
time,  and  he  put  down  his  words  as  sure  as 
if  they  was  aces — with  more,  if  needed,  up 
his  sleeve.  "It  is  used  by  our  most  ad 
vanced  class  in  arithmetic,  madam,"  he  said. 
"The  mechanism,  you  will  observe,  is  ar 
ranged  to  revolve" — he  set  it  agoing — "in 
such  a  way  that  the  small  sphere  also  is  put 
in  motion.  And  as  the  motion  ceases" — it 
was  slowing  down  to  a  stop — "the  sphere 

I2Q 


I 


"'ONE    OF    THE    NEW    GERMAN    KINDERGARTEN    APPLIANCES*" 


Santa    Fe   Charley's    Kindergarten 

comes  to  rest  on  one  of  the  numbers  painted 
legibly  on  either  a  black  or  a  red  ground. 
The  children,  seated  around  the  table,  are 
provided  with  the  numerating  disks  to  which 
I  have  already  called  your  attention;  and — 
with  a  varying  rapidity,  regulated  by  their 
individual  intelligence  —  they  severally,  as 
promptly  as  possible,  arrange  their  disks  in 
piles  corresponding  with  the  number  indi 
cated  by  the  purely  fortuitous  resting-place 
of  the  sphere.  The  purpose  of  this  ingenious 
contrivance,  as  I  scarcely  need  to  point  out 
to  you,  is  to  combine  the  amusement  of  a 
species  of  game  with  the  mental  stimulus 
that  the  rapid  computation  of  figures  im 
parts.  I  may  add  that  we  arouse  a  desirable 
spirit  of  emulation  among  our  little  ones  by 
providing  that  the  child  who  first  correctly 
arranges  his  disks  to  represent  the  indicated 
figure  is  given— until  the  game  is  concluded 
— the  disks  of  the  children  whose  calculation 
has  been  slow,  or  at  fault." 

"Well,  of  all  things  in  the  world,  Mr. 
Charles,"  said  Hart's  aunt,  "to  think  of  my 
finding  such  a  good  thing  as  this  out  here 

121 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

in  New  Mexico — when  I've  time  and  again 
been  over  the  best  kindergarten-supply  places 
in  Boston,  and  have  been  reading  all  I  could 
lay  my  hands  on  about  kindergartens  for 
twenty  years!" 

"  Oh,  we  do  try  not  to  be  too  primitive  out 
here,  madam,"  said  Santa  F6,  taking  a  long 
breath  over  having  got  through  all  right; 
"and  I  am  even  vain  enough  to  think  that 
perhaps  we  manage  to  keep  pretty  well  up 
with  the  times.  But  I  must  say  that  it  is  a 
pleasant  surprise  to  me  to  find  that  I  have 
been  able  to  give  more  than  one  point  to  a 
lady  like  you,  who  knows  every  card — I 
should  say,  to  whom  kindergarten  processes 
are  so  exceptionally  well  known. 

"  And  now  I  really  must  beg  your  permis 
sion  to  leave  you,  that  I  may  return  to  my 
sermon.  I  give  much  time  to  my  sermons; 
and  I  am  cheered  by  the  conviction — you 
must  not  think  me  boastful — that  it  is  time 
well  employed.  When  I  look  around  me  and 
perceive  the  lawless,  and  even  outrageous, 
conditions  which  obtain  in  so  many  other 
towns  in  the  Territory,  and  contrast  them 

122 


Santa   Fe    Charley's    Kindergarten 

with  the  orderly  rectitude  of  Palomitas,  I 
rejoice  that  my  humble  toil  in  the  vineyard 
has  brought  so  rich  a  reward.  I  deeply  re 
gret,  madam,  that  your  present  stay  with  us 
must  be  so  short;  and  with  an  equal  earnest 
ness  I  hope  that  it  may  be  my  privilege  soon 
again  to  welcome  you  to  our  happy  little 
town." 

Hart's  aunt — she  was  just  pleased  all  over 
— was  beginning  to  make  a  speech  back  to 
him ;  but  Santa  F6  looked  so  wore  out  Hart 
didn't  give  her  the  chance  to  go  on.  He  just 
grabbed  her,  and  got  her  away  in  a  hurry — - 
and  Charley  went  to  fussing  with  the  cover 
of  the  wheel,  putting  it  on  again,  so  she 
couldn't  get  at  him  to  shake  hands  for  good 
bye.  He  said  afterwards  he  felt  that  weak, 
when  he  fairly  was  shut  of  her,  all  he  could 
do  was  to  flop  down  into  a  chair  anyway  and 
sing  out  to  Blister  Mike  to  come  and  get  the 
sheets  off  the  bar  quick  and  give  him  his 
own  bottle  of  Bourbon  and  a  tumbler.  And 
he  said  he  never  took  so  many  drinks, 
one  right  on  top  of  another,  since  he  was 
born! 

123 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

There  was  more'n  the  usual  crowd  down 
at  the  deepo  that  night  when  the  Denver 
train  pulled  out — with  Hart's  aunt  in  the 
Pullman,  and  Hart  standing  on  the  Pullman 
platform  telling  the  boys  up  to  the  last  minute 
how  much  he  was  obliged. 

Things  went  that  same  Sunday-school  way 
right  on  to  the  end  of  the  game;  and  Hart 
said  his  aunt  told  him — as  they  was  coming 
along  down  to  the  deepo — she  never  would 
a-believed  there  could  be  such  a  town  as 
Palomitas  was,  out  in  that  wild  frontier 
country,  if  she  hadn't  seen  it  with  her  own 
eyes.  As  to  the  ladies  of  the  town,  he  said 
she  told  him  they  certainly  was  the  most 
domestic  she'd  ever  known! 

Hart  was  so  grateful — and  he  had  a  right 
to  be — he  left  a  hunderd  dollars  with  Ten 
derfoot  Sal  and  told  her  to  blow  off  the  town 
for  him  that  night  by  running  a  free  bar. 
Sal  done  it,  right  enough— and  that  turned 
out  to  be  about  the  hottest  night  Palomitas 
ever  had.  Most  of  the  trouble  was  in  the 
dance-hall,  where  it  was  apt  to  be,  and  had 
its  start,  as  it  did  generally,  right  around  the 
124 


Santa    Fe   Charley's    Kindergarten 

Sage-Brush  Hen:  who  kept  on  being  dressed 
up  in  her  white  frock  and  wearing  her  white 
sun-bonnet,  and  looked  as  demure  as  a  cotton 
tail  rabbit,  and  cut  up  so  reckless  I  reckon 
she  about  made  a  record  for  carryings  on! 
Santa  Fe  had  to  fix  one  feller  because  of  her 
— shooting  him  like  he  was  used  to,  through 
his  pants-pocket — and  more'n  a  dozen  got 
hurt  in  the  ordinary  way. 

Some  of  the  shooting  didn't  seem  quite  as 
if  it  was  needed;  but  it  was  allowed  after 
wards — even  if  there  hadn't  been  no  free  bar 
— there  was  excuse  for  it:  seeing  the  town 
was  all  strung  up  and  had  to  work  itself  off. 
Santa  Fe,  of  course,  had  more  excuse  than 
anybody,  being  most  strung-upest.  Bluffing 
his  way  through  that  kindergarten  game,  he 
said,  was  the  biggest  strain  he'd  ever  had. 
But  he  didn't  mind  what  trouble  he'd  took, 
he  said,  seeing  he'd  got  Hart  out  of  his  hole 
by  taking  it;  and  he  looked  real  pleased  when 
Hill  spoke  up — just  about  voicing  what  all 
the  rest  of  us  was  thinking  —  saying  he 
was  ready,  after  the  way  he'd  played  his 
kindergarten  hand,  to  put  his  pile  on  San- 
125 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

ta    F6    Charley    to   make    iced    drinks    in 
hell! 

Of  course  Hill  oughtn't  to  have  spoke  like 
that.  But  allowances  was  to  be  made  for 
Hill — owing  to  the  ways  he'd  got  into  driving 
mules. 


V 

BOSTON'S  LION-HUNT 

IS  I've  said,  folks  in  Palomitas 
mostly  got  for  names  what 
happened  to  come  handiest 
and  fitted.  Likely  that  dude's 
cuffs  was  marked  with  some 
thing  he  was  knowed  by;  but  as  most  of  us 
wasn't  particular  what  his  cuffs  was  marked, 
or  him  either,  we  just  called  him  Boston — 
after  the  town  he  made  out  he  belonged  to — 
and  let  it  go  at  that.  Big  game  was  what  he 
said  he  was  looking  for:  and  Santa  Fe* 
Charley,  with  Shorty  Smith  and  others  help 
ing,  saw  to  it  he  got  all  he  wanted  and  some 
over — but  I  reckon  the  exercises  would  a- 
been  less  spirited  if  the  Sage-Brush  Hen 
hadn't  chipped  in  and  played  a  full  hand. 
He  was  one  of  the  sporting  kind,  Boston 
o  127 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

was,  that  turned  up  frequent  in  the  Terri 
tory  in  them  days.  Most  of  'em  was  friends 
of  officers  at  some  of  the  posts,  with  a  sprink 
ling  throwed  in  of  sons  and  nephews  of 
directors  of  the  road.  Big  game  was  what 
they  all  made  out  they  come  for;  and  they 
was  apt  to  have  about  as  much  use  for  big 
game — when  they  happened  to  find  any — 
as  a  cat  has  for  two  tails.  But  they  seemed 
to  enjoy  letting  off  cartridges — and  used  to 
buy  what  skins  was  in  the  market  to  take 
home. 

Boston  turned  out  to  be  a  nephew — neph 
ews  was  apt  to  be  worse  'n  sons  for  stuck- 
upness — and  he  come  in  one  morning  in  a 
private  car  hitched  onto  the  Denver  train. 
He  had  a  colored  man  along  to  cook  and 
clean  his  guns  for  him — he  had  more  things 
to  shoot  with,  and  of  more  shapes  and  sizes, 
than  you  ever  seen  in  one  place  outside  of  a 
gun-store — and  he  was  dressed  that  nice  in 
green  corduroys,  with  new-fangled  knives  and 
hunting  fixings  hanging  all  over  him  like  he 
was  a  Christmas-tree,  he  might  have  hired 
out  for  a  show.  He  wasn't  a  bad  set-up 
128 


Boston's    Lion-hunt 

young  feller;  but  with  them  green  clothes 
on,  and  being  clean  shaved  and  wearing 
eye-glasses,  he  did  look  just  about  what  he 
truly  was. 

Wood  had  a  wire  a  director's  nephew  was 
coming — he  was  the  agent,  Wood  was — and 
orders  to  side-track  his  car  and  see  he  wac 
took  care  of;  and  of  course  Wood  passed  the 
word  along  to  the  rest  of  us  what  sort  of  a 
game  was  on.  But  he  begged  so  hard,  Wood 
did,  the  town  would  hold  itself  in — saying  if 
rigs  was  put  up  on  a  director's  nephew  he 
was  dead  sure  to  lose  his  job — we  all  allowed 
we'd  give  the  young  feller  a  day  or  two  to 
turn  round  in,  anyway;  and  we  promised 
Wood — who  was  liked — we'd  let  the  critter 
get  through  his  hunting  picnic  without  put 
ting  up  no  rigs  on  him  if  he  made  any  sort 
of  a  show  of  knowing  how  to  behave.  How* 
somedever,  he  didn't — and  things  started  up, 
and  nobody  but  Boston  himself  to  blame  for 
it,  that  very  first  night  over  in  the  bar-room 
at  the  Forest  Queen. 

He  had  Wood  in  to  supper  with  him  in  his 
car,  Boston  did,  the  darky  cooking  it;  and 
129 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

Wood  said — except  it  begun  with  their  hav 
ing  pickled  green  plums,  and  some  sort  of 
messed-up  stuff  that  tasted  like  spoilt  salt 
fish  and  made  him  feel  sickish — it  was  the 
best  supper  he  ever  eat.  Each  of  'em  had 
a  bottle  of  iced  wine,  he  said ;  and  he  said 
they  topped  off  with  coffee  that  only  wanted 
milk  to  make  it  a  real  wonder,  and  a  drink 
like  rock-and-rye,  but  chalks  better,  and  such 
seegars  as  he'd  never  smoked  in  his  born 
days. 

All  the  time  they  was  hashing — and  Wood 
said  he  reckoned  they  was  at  it  a'most  a 
full  hour — Boston  kept  a-telling  what  a  hell 
of  a  one  (that  was  the  sort  of  careless  way 
Wood  put  it)  he  was  at  big-game  hunting; 
but  Wood  judged — taking  all  his  talk  to 
gether — the  only  thing  he'd  ever  really  shot 
bigger  *n  a  duck  or  a  pa'tridge  was  a  deer 
the  dogs  had  chased  into  a  pond  for  him  so 
it  hadn't  no  chance.  But  it  wasn't  none  of 
Wood's  business  to  stop  a  director's  nephew 
from  blowing  if  he  felt  like  it,  and  so  he  just 
let  him  fan  away.  Bears  wasn't  bad  sport, 
he  said,  and  he  didn't  mind  filling  in  time 
130 


Boston's    Lion-hunt 

with  'em  if  he  couldn't  get  nothing  better; 
but  what  he'd  come  to  Palomitas  for  'special, 
he  said,  was  mountain-lions — he  seemed  to 
have  it  in  his  head  he'd  find  'em  walking  all 
over  the  place,  same  as  cats — and  he  wanted 
to  know  if  any'd  lately  been  seen. 

Wood  told  him  them  animals  wasn't  met 
with  frequent  in  them  parts  (and  they  wasn't, 
for  a  fact,  and  hadn't  been  for  about  a  hun- 
derd  years,  likely)  and  maybe  he'd  do  better 
to  set  his  mind  on  jack-rabbits — which  there 
was  enough  of  out  in  the  sage-brush,  Wood 
told  him,  to  load  his  car.  And  then  he 
looked  so  real  down  disappointed,  seeming 
to  think  jack-rabbits  wasn't  anyways  satis 
factory,  Wood  said  he  told  him  there  was 
chances  some  of  the  boys  over  at  the  Forest 
Queen — they  being  all  the  time  out  in  the 
mountains  looking  for  prospects — might  put 
him  on  to  finding  a  bear,  anyway;  and  it 
wouldn't  do  no  harm  to  go  across  to  the 
Queen  and  ask.  And  so  over  the  both  of 
'em  come. 

It  was  Wood's  mistake  bringing  that  green- 
corduroyed  pill  right  in  among  the  boys  with- 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

out  giving  notice,  and  Wood  owned  up  it  was 
later — allowing  he'd  a-been  more  careful  if 
the  rock-and-rye  stuff  on  top  of  the  wine,  not 
being  used  to  either  of  'em,  hadn't  loaded 
him  more'n  he  knowed  about  at  the  time. 
Boston  didn't  seem  to  be  much  loaded,  likely 
having  the  habit  of  taking  such  drinks  and 
so  being  able  to  carry  'em;  but  he  was  that 
high-horsey — putting  on  his  eye-glasses  and 
staring  'round  the  place  same  as  if  he'd 
struck  a  menagerie  and  the  boys  was  beasts 
in  cages — all  hands  was  set  spiteful  to  him 
right  off. 

Things  was  running  about  as  usual  at  the 
Queen :  most  of  the  boys  setting  around  the 
table  and  Santa  Fe*  dealing;  a  few  of  'em 
standing  back  of  the  others  looking  on ;  two 
or  three  getting  drinks  at  the  bar  and  talk 
ing  to  Blister;  and  the  girls  kicking  their 
heels  on  the  benches,  waiting  till  it  come 
time  to  start  up  dancing  in  the  other  room. 
The  only  touch  out  of  the  common  was  the 
way  the  Sage-Brush  Hen  had  fixed  herself — 
she  being  rigged  up  in  the  same  white  duds 
she'd  wore  when  Hart's  aunt  come  to  town, 
132 


STARING  'ROUND  THE  PLACE  SAME  AS  IF  HE'D  STRUCK  A 
MENAGERIE  " 


Boston's    Lion-hunt 

and  looking  so  real  cute  and  pretty  in  'em, 
and  acting  demure  to  suit,  nobody'd  ever 
a-sized  her  for  the  gay  old  licketty-split  Hen 
she  was. 

It  was  between  deals  when  Wood  and 
Boston  come  in,  and  Santa  Fe  got  up  from 
the  table  and  crossed  over  to  'em — Charley 
always  was  that  polite  you'd  a-thought  he 
was  a  fish-hook  with  pants  on — and  told 
Boston  he  hoped  he  seen  him  well,  and  was 
glad  he'd  come  along.  Then  Wood  told  how 
he  was  after  mountain-lions,  and  wasn't  likely 
to  get  none ;  and  Charley  owned  up  they  was 
few,  and  what  there  was  of  'em  was  so  sort 
of  scattered  the  chances  for  finding  'em  was 
poor. 

Boston  didn't  say  much  of  nothing  at  first, 
seeming  to  be  took  up  with  trying  to  make 
out  where  Santa  F6  belonged  to — hitching  on 
his  eye-glasses  and  looking  him  over  careful, 
but  only  getting  puzzleder  the  more  he  stared. 
You  see,  Charley — in  them  black  clothes  and 
a  white  tie  on — looked  for  certain  sure  like 
he  was  a  minister ;  and  there  he  was  getting 
up  red-hot  from  dealing  faro,  and  having  on 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

each  side  of  where  he  set  at  the  table  a  forty- 
five  gun.  It  was  more  of  a  mix-up  than 
Boston  could  manage,  and  you  could  see  he 
didn't  know  where  he  was  at.  Howsomed- 
ever,  Wood  had  told  him  he'd  better  make 
out  to  be  friendly,  and  take  just  what  hap 
pened  to  come  along  without  asking  no 
questions;  and  I  reckon  the  shoat  really 
meant,  as  well  as  he  knowed  how  to,  to  do 
what  he  was  told.  So  he  give  up  trying  to 
size  Santa  F6,  and  said  back  to  him  he  was 
obliged  and  was  feeling  hearty ;  and  then  he 
took  to  grinning,  like  as  if  he  wanted  to 
make  things  pleasant,  and  says:  "Really,  I 
am  very  much  interested  in  my  surround 
ings.  This  place  has  quite  the  air  of  being  a 
barbarian  Monte  Carlo.  It  really  has,  you 
know." 

That  was  a  non-plusser  for  Charley — and 
Santa  Fe*  wasn't  non-plustered  often,  and 
didn't  like  it  when  he  was — but  he  pulled 
himself  together  and  put  down  what  cards 
he  had:  telling  Boston  monte  was  a  game 
he  sometimes  played  with  friends  for  amuse 
ment — which  was  the  everlasting  truth,  only 
134 


Boston's    Lion-hunt 

the  friends  mostly  was  less  amused  than  he 
was — and  he'd  had  a  dog  named  Carlo,  he 
said,  when  he  was  a  boy. 

Boston  seemed  to  think  that  was  funny, 
and  took  to  snickering  sort  of  superior.  He 
was  about  a  full  dose  for  uppishness,  that 
young  feller  was:  going  on  as  if  he'd  bought 
the  Territory,  and  as  if  the  folks  in  it  was 
the  peones  he'd  took  over — Mexican  fashion — 
along  with  the  land.  Then  he  said  he  guessed 
Santa  F6  did  not  ketch  his  meaning,  and 
Monte  Carlo  was  the  biggest  gambling  hell 
there  was. 

Being  in  the  business,  Santa  Fe*  was  apt 
to  get  peevish  when  anybody  took  to  talking 
about  gambling;  and  Boston's  throwing  in 
hell  on  top  of  it  that  way  was  more'n  he 
cared  to  stand.  He  didn't  let  on — at  least 
not  so  the  fool  could  see  it — his  dander  was 
started,  setting  on  himself  being  one  of  the 
things  his  work  trained  him  to ;  but  the  boys 
noticed  he  begun  to  get  palish  up  at  the  top 
of  his  forehead — where  there  was  a  white 
streak  between  his  hair  and  where  his  hat 
come — and  all  hands  knowed  that  for  a  bad 
135 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

sign.  Boston,  of  course — being  strangers 
with  him— didn't  know  what  Charley's  signs 
was;  and  he  just  kept  on  a-talking  as  fresh 
as  his  green  clothes. 

"Not  less  psychologically  than  sociologi 
cally,"  says  he,  "is  it  interesting  to  find  in 
this  slum  of  the  wilderness  the  degenerate 
Old-World  vices  in  crude  New-World  garb. 
Here,"  says  he,  jerking  his  head  across  to 
the  table,"  is  a  coarse  reproduction  of  Mon 
aco's  essence;  and  there,  I  observe,  are  other 
repulsive  features  equally  coarse" — and  he 
jerked  his  head  over  to  where  Shorty  Smith 
was  setting  up  drinks  for  Carrots  at  the 
bar. 

"If  you  dare  to  say  one  word  more  about 
my  features,  young  man,"  says  Carrots — 
having  a  pug-nose,  Carrots  was  techy  about 
her  features ;  and  she  had  a  temper  the  same 
color  as  her  hair — "I'll  smack  you  in  the 
mouth!" 

"And  Oi'll  smack  your  whole  domn  head 

off!"  put  in  Blister  Mike.     "D'you  think 

Oi'm  going  to  have  ladies  drinking  at  my 

bar  insulted  by  slush  like  you  ?"    And  Blister 

136 


Boston's    Lion-hunt 

reached  down  to  where  he  kept  it  among  the 
tumblers  to  get  his  gun. 

It  looked  as  if  there  was  going  to  be  a 
ruction  right  off.  There  was  Carrots  red- 
hotter  than  her  hair;  and  Blister,  who  was 
special  friends  with  Carrots,  shooting  mad 
at  having  anybody  sassing  her;  and  Santa 
Fe's  forehead  getting  whiter  and  whiter;  and 
all  hands  on  their  hind  legs  at  having  Palo- 
mitas  called  a  slum  of  the  wilderness — and 
likely  worse  things  said  about  the  place  in 
words  nobody  'd  ever  heard  tell  of  longer  'n 
your  arm.  The  only  one  keeping  quiet  was 
Wood.  He  was  sure,  Wood  was,  trouble 
was  coming  beyond  his  stopping;  and  as  he 
knowed  which  side  his  bread  was  buttered, 
and  how  he'd  be  fired  from  his  job  if  things 
happened  to  go  serious,  he  just  went  and  sat 
down  in  a  corner  and  swore  to  himself  sor 
rowful,  and  was  about  the  miserablest-look- 
ing  man  you  ever  seen  alive.  I  guess  it 
was  more'n  anything  else  being  pitiful  for 
Wood  made  things  take  the  turn  they  did 
when  the  Sage -Brush  Hen  come  into  the 
game. 

137 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

"Now  you  all  hear  me!"  the  Hen  sung  out 
sudden — and  as  the  Hen  wasn't  much  given 
to  no  such  public  speaking,  and  the  boys  was 
used  to  doing  quick  what  she  wanted  when 
she  asked  for  it,  everybody  stopped  talking 
and  Blister  put  his  gun  down  on  the  bar. 
Most  of  us,  I  reckon,  had  a  feeling  the  Hen 
was  going  to  let  things  out  in  some  queer 
way  she'd  thought  of  in  that  funny  head  of 
hers — same  as  she'd  done  other  times  when 
matters  was  getting  serious — and  we  all  was 
ready  to  help  her  with  any  skylarking  she 
was  up  to  that  would  put  a  stop  to  the 
rumpus  and  so  get  Wood  out  of  his  hole. 
As  for  Boston — being  too  much  of  a  fool  to 
know  what  he'd  done  to  start  such  a  racket — 
he  was  all  mazed-up  by  it:  staring  straight 
ahead  of  him  like  a  horse  with  staggers,  and 
looking  like  he  wished  he'd  never  been 
born. 

"You  all  hear  me,  I  tell  you!"  says  the 
Hen,  taking  a-hold  of  Boston's  arm  sort  of 
motherly.  "While  I  am  the  school-teacher 
in  Palomitas  I  shall  not  permit  you  boys  to 
play  your  pranks  on  strangers ;  and  'specially 
138 


Boston's    Lion-hunt 

not  on  this  gentleman — whom  I  claim  as  a 
friend  of  mine  because  we  both  come  from 
the  same  dear  old  town." 

That  was  the  first  time  anybody'd  ever 
heard  the  Hen  wasn't  hatched-out  in  Kan 
sas  City.  But  it  didn't  seem  as  if  calling 
her  hand  would  be  gentlemanly,  so  nobody 
said  nothing;  and  off  she  went  again — talk 
ing  this  time  to  Boston,  but  winking  the  eye 
away  from  him  at  the  boys. 

"It  is  merely  a  joke,  sir,"  says  the  Hen, 
"  that  these  young  men  are  playing  on  you — 
and  as  silly  a  joke  as  silly  can  be.  Some 
times,  in  spite  of  my  most  earnest  efforts  to 
stop  them,  they  will  go  on  in  this  foolish 
way:  pretending  to  be  wild  and  wicked  and 
murderous  and  all  such  nonsense,  when  in 
reality  there  is  not  a  single  one  among  them 
who  willingly  would  hurt  a  fly.  What  Miss 
Mortimer  said  about  smacking  you,  as  I 
hardly  need  to  explain,  was  a  joke  too. 
Dear  Miss  Mortimer!  She  is  as  full  of  fun 
as  a  kitten,  and  as  sweet  and  gentle" — Car 
rots,  not  seeing  what  the  Hen  was  driving 
at,  all  the  time  was  looking  like  a  red-headed 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

thunder-storm — "  as  the  kindest-hearted  kit 
ten  that  ever  was! 

"And  now,  I  assure  you,  sir,  this  repre 
hensible  practical  joking — for  which  I  beg 
your  indulgence — definitely  is  ended;  and  I 
am  glad  to  promise  that  you  will  find  in 
evidence,  during  the  remainder  of  your  stay 
in  Palomitas,  only  the  friendliness  and  the 
courtesy  which  truly  are  the  essential  char 
acteristics  of  our  seemingly  turbulent  little 
town." 

The  Hen  stopped  for  a  minute  to  get  her 
wind  back — which  give  the  boys  a  chance 
to  study  over  what  they  was  told  they  was, 
and  what  kind  of  a  town  it  turned  out  to  be 
they  was  living  in — and  then  off  she  went 
again,  saying:  "I  beg  that  you  will  pardon 
me,  sir,  for  addressing  you  so  informally, 
without  waiting  for  an  introduction.  We 
do  not  always  stand  strictly  on  etiquette 
here  in  Palomitas;  and  I  saw  that  I  had  to 
put  my  cards  down  quick — I  mean  that  I 
had  to  intervene  hurriedly — to  save  you 
from  being  really  annoyed.  Now  that  I  have 
cleared  up  the  trifling  misunderstanding,  I 
140 


Boston's    Lion-hunt 

trust  satisfactorily,  we  will  go  back  to  where 
we  ought  to  have  started  and  I  will  ask  Mr. 
Charles  to  introduce  us."  And  round  she 
cracked  to  Santa  Fe"  and  says:  "  Will  you  be 
so  kind  as  to  introduce  my  fellow-townsman 
tome,  Mr.  Charles?" 

Santa  Fe  had  begun  to  get  a  little  cooled 
off  by  that  time ;  and,  like  as  not — it  was  a 
wonder  the  way  them  two  passed  cards  to 
each  other — the  Hen  give  him  some  sort  of 
a  look  that  made  him  suspicion  what  her 
game  was.  Anyway,  into  it  he  come — say 
ing  to  Boston,  talking  high-toned  and  polite 
like  he  knowed  how  to:  "I  have  much 
pleasure,  sir,  in  presenting  you  to  Miss  Sage, 
who  is  Palomitas's  idol — and  a  near  relative, 
as  you  may  be  interested  in  knowing,  of  the 
eminent  Eastern  capitalist  of  the  same  name. 
As  she  herself  has  mentioned,  Miss  Sage  is 
our  school-teacher;  but  her  modest  cheek 
would  be  suffused  with  blushes  were  I  to  tell 
you  how  much  more  she  is  to  us — how  broad 
ly  her  generous  nature  prompts  her  to  con 
strue  her  duties  as  the  instructress  of  innocent 
youth.  Only  a  moment  ago  you  had  an 
141 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

opportunity  for  observing  that  her  word  is 
our  law  paramount.  I  am  within  bounds  in 
saying,  sir,  that  in  Palomitas  she  is  univer 
sally  adored." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Charles!  How  can  you!*'  says 
the  Hen,  kind  of  turning  away  and  looking 
as  if  what  Charley'd  said  really  had  made 
her  feel  like  blushing  a  little.  Then  she 
faced  round  again  and  shook  hands  with 
Boston — who  was  so  rattled  he  seemed  only 
about  half  awake,  and  done  it  like  a  pump — • 
and  says  to  him:  " Mr.  Charles  is  a  born  flat 
terer  if  ever  there  was  one,  sir,  and  you  must 
pay  no  attention  whatever  to  his  extrava 
gant  words.  I  only  try  in  my  poor  way,  as 
occasion  presents  itself" — she  let  her  voice 
drop  down  so  it  went  sort  of  soft  and  ketchy 
— "to  mollify  some  of  the  harsher  asperities 
of  our  youthfully  strenuous  community;  to 
apply,  as  it  were,  the  touchstone  of  Boston 
social  standards — the  standards  that  you  and 
I,  sir,  recognize — to  the  sometimes  too  rough 
ways  of  our  rough  little  frontier  settlement. 
It  is  true,  though,  and  I  am  proud  to  say  it, 
that  the  boys  do  like  me  —  of  course  Mr. 
142 


Boston's    Lion-hunt 

Charles's  talk  about  my  being  an  idol  and 
adored  is  only  his  nonsense;  and  it  is  true 
that  they  always  are  nice  about  doing  what 
I  ask  them  to  do — as  they  were  just  now, 
when  they  were  naughty  and  I  had  to  make 
them  behave. 

"  And  now,  since  the  formalities  have  been 
attended  to  and  we  have  been  introduced 
properly,  and  since  you  and  I  are  fellow- 
Bostonians  and  ought  to  be  friendly" — the 
Hen  give  him  one  of  them  fetching  looks  of 
hers — "you  must  come  over  to  the  bar  and 
have  a  drink  on  me.  And  while  we  are  per 
forming  this  rite  of  hospitality,"  says  the 
Hen — pretending  not  to  see  the  jump  he  give 
— "we  can  discuss  your  projected  lion-hunt: 
in  which,  with  your  permission,  I  shall  take 
part."  Boston  give  a  bigger  jump  at  that; 
and  the  Hen  says  on  to  him,  sort  of  explain 
ing  matters :  "  You  need  not  fear  that  I  shall 
not  sustain  my  end  of  the  adventure.  As 
any  of  the  boys  here  will  tell  you,  I  can  handle 
a  forty-five  or  a  Winchester  about  as  well  as 
anybody — and  big-game  hunting  really  is  my 
forte.  Indeed,  I  may  say — using  one  of  our 
143 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

homely  but  expressive  colloquialisms — that 
when  it  comes  to  lion-hunting  I  am  simply 
hell!" 

Boston  seemed  to  be  getting  worse  and 
worse  mixed  while  the  Hen  was  rattling  her 
stuff  off  to  him — and  I  reckon,  all  things  con 
sidered,  he  wasn't  to  be  blamed.  He'd  got 
a  jolt  to  start  with,  when  he  come  in  and 
found  what  he  took  to  be  a  preacher  dealing 
faro ;  and  he  was  worse  jolted  when  his  fool- 
talk — and  he  not  knowing  how  he'd  done  it 
— run  him  so  close  up  against  a  shooting- 
scrape.  But  the  Hen  was  the  limit:  she 
looking  and  acting  like  the  school-ma'am  she 
said  she  was,  and  yet  tangled  up  in  a  bar 
room  with  a  lot  of  gamblers  and  such  as 
Kerosene  Kate  and  old  Tenderfoot  Sal  and 
Carrots — and  then  bringing  the  two  ends 
together  by  talking  one  minute  like  he  was 
used  to  East,  and  the  next  one  wanting  to 
set  up  drinks  for  him  and  telling  him  she 
knowed  all  there  was  to  know  about  gun- 
handling  and  how  at  lion-hunting  she  was 
just  hell!  I  guess  he  was  more'n  half  ex 
cusable,  that  young  feller  was,  for  looking 
144 


Boston's    Lion-hunt 

like  he  couldn't  be  counted  on  for  telling  for 
certain  on  which  end  of  him  was  his  heels! 

What  he  did  manage  to  work  out  clear  in 
that  fool  head  of  his  was  he  had  the  chance 
to  get  the  drink  he  needed,  and  needed  bad, 
to  brace  him ;  so  over  he  come  with  the  Hen 
to  the  bar  and  got  it — and  it  seemed  to  do 
him  some  good.  Then  Carrots — who'd  be 
gun  to  ketch  on  a  little  to  what  the  Hen  was 
after — spoke  up  and  told  him  it  was  true 
what  Miss  Sage  had  told  him  about  her 
kittenishness,  and  she  hadn't  meant  nothing 
when  she  was  talking  about  smacking  him; 
and  to  show  he  had  no  hard  feeling,  she  said, 
he  must  have  one  on  her.  Then  Blister 
Mike,  having  sized  matters  up,  chipped  in 
too:  saying  it  would  make  him  feel  com- 
fortabler — having  done  some  joking  himself 
by  talking  the  way  he  did  and  getting  his 
gun  out — if  they'd  all  have  one  on  the  bar. 

As  drinks  in  Palomitas  was  sighted  for  a 
thousand  yards,  and  carried  to  kill  further, 
by  the  time  Boston  had  three  of  'em  in  him — 
on  top  of  the  ones  he'd  had  with  Wood  at 
supper — he  was  loaded  enough  to  be  careless 
J45 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

about  what  was  happening  among  the  sun- 
spots  and  ready  to  take  things  pretty  much 
as  they  come  along.  The  boys  was  ready 
for  what  might  be  coming  too :  allowing  for 
sure  the  Hen  was  getting  a  circus  started, 
and  only  waiting  to  follow  suit  to  the  cards 
she  put  down. 

What  was  needed,  it  turned  out,  was 
stacked  with  Shorty  Smith;  and  the  Hen 
sort  of  picked  up  Shorty  with  her  eyes  and 
says  to  him:  "  Your  little  boy  Gustavus — he 
is  such  a  dear  little  fellow,  and  I  do  love  him 
so! — was  telling  me  at  recess  to-day,  Mr. 
Smith,  that  you  saw  a  lion  when  you  were 
out  in  the  mountains  day  before  yesterday 
prospecting.  I  think  that  very  likely  you 
may  have  seen  the  fierce  creature  even  more 
recently;  and  perhaps  you  will  have  the 
kindness  to  tell  us'* — the  Hen  winked  her 
off  eye  at  Shorty  to  show  him  what  was 
wanted — "where  he  probably  may  be  found 
at  the  present  time?" 

Some  of  the  boys  couldn't  help  snickering 
right  out  when  the  Hen  took  to  loading  up 
Shorty  with  little  Gustavuses;  but  Boston 
146 


Boston's    Lion-hunt 

didn't  notice  nothing,  and  Shorty — who  had 
wits  as  sharp  as  pin-points,  and  could  be 
counted  on  for  what  cards  was  needed  in  the 
kind  of  game  the  Hen  was  playing — put  down 
the  ace  she  asked  for  and  never  turned  a  hair. 
"Gustavus  will  be  tickled  out  of  his  little 
boots,  Miss,"  says  Shorty,  "when  I  tell  him 
how  nice  you've  spoke  about  him;  and  I'm 
much  obliged  myself.  He  give  it  to  you 
straight,  the  kid  did,  about  that  lion.  I  seen 
him,  all  right — and  so  close  up  it  most  scared 
the  life  out  of  me!  And  you're  right,  Miss, 
in  thinking  I've  ketched  onto  him  since — 
seeing  I  was  a  blame  sight  nearer  to  him  than 
I  wanted  to  be  less'n  four  hours  ago.  Yes, 
ma'am,  as  I  was  coming  in  home  to-night 
from  the  Canada  I  struck  that  animal's  tracks 
in  the  mud  down  by  the  ford  back  of  the 
deepo — he'd  been  down  to  the  river  for  a 
drink,  I  reckon — and  they  was  so  fresh  he 
couldn't  a-been  more'n  five  minutes  gone. 
When  I  got  to  thinking  what  likely  might 
a-happened  if  I'd  come  along  them  five 
minutes  sooner,  Miss,  I  had  cold  creeps  crawl 
ing  all  up  and  down  the  spine  of  my  back!" 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

Them  statements  of  Shorty's  set  the  boys 
to  snickering  some  more — there  not  being  no 
ford  on  the  Rio  Grande  this  side  of  La  Cha- 
mita,  and  the  wagon-bridge  being  down  back 
of  the  deepo  where  he  said  his  ford  was — but 
Shorty  paid  no  attention,  and  went  on  as 
smooth  as  if  he  was  speaking  a  piece  he'd 
got  by  heart. 

"As  you  know,  Miss,  being  such  a  hunter," 
says  he — making  up  what  happened  to  be 
wanted  about  lions,  same  as  he'd  done  about 
fords — "them  animals  takes  a  drink  every 
four  hours  in  the  night-time  as  regular  as  if 
they  looked  at  their  watches.  Likely  that 
feller's  bedded  just  a  little  way  back  in  the 
chaparral  so's  to  be  handy  for  his  next  one ; 
and  I  reckon  if  this  sport  here  feels  he  needs 
lions" — Shorty  give  his  head  a  jerk  over  to 
Boston — "he'll  get  one  by  looking  for  it  right 
now.  But  for  the  Lord's  sake,  Miss,  don't 
you  think  of  taking  a  hand  in  tackling  him! 
He's  a  most  a-terrible  big  one — the  out  and 
out  biggest  I  ever  seen.  The  first  thing  you 
knowed  about  it,  he'd  a-gulped  you  down 
wholel" 

148 


Boston's    Lion-hunt 

"How  you  do  go  on,  Mr.  Smith!"  says  the 
Hen,  laughing  pleasant.  ' '  Have  you  so  soon 
forgotten  our  hunt  together  last  winter — 
when  I  came  up  and  shot  the  grizzly  in  the 
ear  just  as  he  had  you  down  and  was  begin 
ning  to  claw  you  ?  And  are  you  not  ashamed 
of  yourself,  after  that,  to  say  that  any  lion 
is  too  big  for  me?" 

Without  stopping  for  Shorty  to  strain 
himself  trying  to  remember  that  bear-hunt, 
round  she  cracked  to  Boston — giving  Shorty 
and  Santa  Fe  a  chance  to  get  in  a  corner  and 
talk  quick  in  a  whisper — and  says  to  him: 
"We  just  are  in  luck!  These  big  old  ones 
are  the  real  fighters,  you  know.  Only  a 
year  ago  there  was  a  gentleman  from  the 
East  here  on  a  lion-hunt — it  was  his  first, 
and  he  did  not  seem  to  know  quite  how  to 
manage  matters — and  one  of  these  big  fierce 
ones  caught  him  and  finished  him.  It  was 
very  horrible!  The  dreadful  creature  sprang 
on  him  in  the  dark  and  almost  squeezed  him 
to  death,  and  then  tore  him  to  pieces  while 
he  still  was  alive  enough  to  feel  it,  and  ended 
by  eating  so  much  of  him  that  only  a  few 
?49 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

scraps  of  him  were  left  to  send  East  to  his 
friends.  This  one  seems  to  be  just  that 
kind.  Isn't  it  splendid!  What  superb  sport 
we  shall  have  in  getting  him — you  and  I!" 

What  the  Hen  had  to  say  about  the  way 
lions  done  business — 'specially  their  eating 
hunters  like  they  was  sandwiches  on  a  free- 
lunch  counter — seemed  to  take  some  of  the 
load  off  Boston,  and  as  he  got  soberer  he 
wasn't  so  careless  as  he'd  been.  From  his 
looks  it  was  judged  he  was  thinking  a  lion 
some  sizes  smaller  would  be  a  better  fit  for 
him;  but  he  couldn't  well  say  so — with  the 
Hen  going  on  about  wanting  hers  as  big  as 
they  made  'em — so  he  took  a  brace,  and  sort 
of  swelled  himself  out,  and  said  the  bigger 
this  one  was  the  better  he'd  be  pleased. 

"  But  I  cannot  permit  you,  my  dear  young 
lady,"  he  says,  "to  share  with  me  the  great 
danger  incident  to  pursuing  so  ferocious  a 
creature.  I  alone  must  deal  with  it.  To 
morrow  I  shall  familiarize  myself  with  the 
locality  where  Mr.  Smith  has  found  its  tracks ; 
and  to-morrow  night,  or  the  night  after — as 
the  weather  may  determine.  Of  course  noth- 
150 


Boston's    Lion-hunt 

ing  can  be  done  in  case  of  rain — I  will  seek 
the  savage  brute  in  its  lair.  And  then  we 
shall  find  out" — Boston  worked  up  as  much 
as  he  could  of  a  grin,  but  it  seemed  to  come 
hard  and  didn't  fit  well — "which  of  us  shall 
have  the  other's  skin!" 

"Danger  for  me!"  says  the  Hen,  giving 
him  another  of  them  looks  of  hers.  "Just 
as  though  I  would  not  be  as  safe,  with  a  brave 
man  like  you  to  protect  me,  as  I  am  teaching 
school!  And  to-morrow  night,  indeed!  Do 
you  think  lions  are  like  dentists — only  the 
other  way  round  about  the  teeth!"  and  the 
Hen  laughed  hearty — "and  you  can  make 
appointments  with  them  a  week  ahead! 
Why,  we  must  be  off,  you  and  I,  this  very 
minute!  I'll  run  right  round  home  and  get 
my  rifle — and  meet  you  at  your  car  as  soon 
as  you've  got  yours.  To  think  of  our  having 
a  lion  this  way  almost  sitting  on  the  front 
door  step!  It's  a  chance  that  won't  come 
again  in  a  thousand  years!" 

Away  the  Hen  went  a-kiting;  and,  there 
not  being  no  hole  he  could  see  to  crawl  out 
of,  away  went  Boston — only  the  schedule  he 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

run  on  was  some  miles  less  to  the  hour.  To 
make  sure  he  didn't  try  to  side-track,  Shorty 
went  with  him  —  leaving  Santa  Fe*  to  fix 
matters  with  the  Hen,  and  do  what  talking 
was  needed  to  ring  in  the  boys. 

Shorty  put  through  his  part  in  good  shape : 
helping  Boston  get  as  many  of  his  guns  as 
he  thought  was  wanted  to  hunt  lions  with — 
which  was  as  many  as  he  could  pack  along 
with  him — and  managing  sort  of  casual  to 
slip  out  the  cartridges  so  he  wouldn't  hurt 
nobody.  It  turned  out  Shorty  needn't  a- 
been  so  extry-precautious — but  of  course  he 
couldn't  tell.  By  the  time  Shorty  had  him 
ready,  the  Hen  come  a-hustling  up — having 
finished  settling  things  with  Santa  Fe" — and 
sung  out  to  him  to  get  a  move  on,  or  likely 
the  lion  would  a-had  his  drink  and  gone. 
The  move  he  got  wasn't  much  of  a  one ;  but 
he  did  come  a -creeping  out  of  the  car  at 
last,  and  having  such  a  load  of  weepons 
on  him  as  give  him  some  excuse  for  going 
slow. 

"Good  luck  to  you!"  says  Shorty,  and  off 
be  skipped  in  a  hurry  to  get  at  the  rest  of  his 
152 


Boston's    Lion-hunt 

part  of  the  ceremonies — not  paying  no  atten 
tion  to  Boston's  most  getting  down  on  his 
knees  to  him  begging  him  to  come  along. 
Then  Boston  wanted  the  colored  man  to  come 
— who  was  scared  out  of  his  black  skin  at  the 
notion,  and  wouldn't;  and  if  the  Hen  hadn't 
ended  up  by  grabbing  a-hold  of  him — saying 
as  it  was  dark,  and  she  knowed  the  way  and 
he  didn't,  she'd  better  lead  him — likely  she 
wouldn't  a-got  him  started  at  all.  Pulling 
him  was  more  like  what  she  did  than  leading 
him,  the  Hen  said  afterwards ;  but  she  didn't 
kick  about  his  going  slow  and  wanting  to 
stop  every  minute,  she  said,  because  it  give 
Santa  F6  and  Shorty  more  time. 

The  night  was  the  kind  that's  usual  in  New 
Mexico,  and  just  what  was  wanted.  There 
was  no  moon,  and  the  starshine  —  all  the 
stars  looked  to  be  about  the  size  of  cheeses — 
give  a  hazy  sort  of  light  that  made  every 
thing  seem  twice  as  big  as  it  really  was,  and 
shadows  so  black  and  solid  you'd  think  you 
could  cut  'em  in  slices  same  as  pies.  And 
it  was  so  still  you  could  a-heard  a  mouse 
sneezing  half  a  mile  off.  The  rattling  all 
'S3 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

over  him  of  Boston *s  weepons  sounded  like 
there  was  boilers  getting  rivetted  close  by. 

The  Hen  yanked  him  along  easy,  but  kept 
him  a-moving — and  passed  the  time  for  him 
by  telling  all  she  could  make  up  about  what 
desprit  critters  lions  was.  Starting  from 
where  his  car  was  side-tracked,  they  went 
round  the  deepo ;  and  then  down  the  wagon- 
road  pretty  near  to  the  bridge,  but  not  so 
near  he  could  see  it;  and  then  across  through 
the  sage-brush  and  clumps  of  mesquite  till 
they  come  to  the  river — where  there  was  a 
break  in  the  bluff,  and  a  flat  place  going  on 
down  into  the  water  that  looked  like  it  was 
the  beginning  of  a  ford.  For  a  fact,  it  was 
where  the  Mexican  women  come  to  do  their 
clothes-washing,  and  just  back  from  the 
river  was  a  little  'dobe  house — flat-topped, 
and  the  size  and  shape  of  a  twelve-foot- 
square  dry-goods  box  —  the  women  kept 
their  washing  things  in.  But  them  was  par 
ticulars  the  Hen  didn't  happen  to  mention  to 
Boston  at  the  time. 

When  they  come  to  the  'dobe  she  give  him 
a  jerk,  to  show  him  he  was  to  stand  still  there; 


Boston's    Lion-hunt 

and  then  she  grabbed  him  close  up  to  her,  so 
she  could  whisper,  and  says:  "It  was  here 
that  Mr.  Smith  saw  the  ferocious  animal's 
foot-marks  almost  precisely  four  hours  ago. 
The  habits  of  these  creatures  are  so  regular, 
as  Mr.  Smith  mentioned,  that  this  one  cer 
tainly  will  return  for  his  next  drink  when 
the  four  hours  are  ended  —  and  so  may  be 
upon  us  at  any  moment.  I  hope  that  we 
may  see  him  coming.  If  he  saw  us  before 
we  saw  him  —  well,  it  wouldn't  be  nice  at 
all!" 

The  Hen  let  that  soak  in  a  little;  and  then 
she  snuggled  up  to  Boston,  all  sort  of  shivery, 
and  says:  "I  wish  that  we  had  taken  the 
precaution  to  ask  Mr.  Smith  from  which 
direction  the  tracks  came.  These  lions,  you 
know,  have  a  dreadful  way  of  stealing  up 
close  to  you  and  then  springing!  That  was 
what  happened  to  that  poor  young  man. 
So  far  as  was  known,  his  first  notice  of  his 
peril  was  finding  himself  crushed  to  the 
ground  beneath  the  creature's  weight — and 
the  next  instant  it  was  tearing  him  with  its 
teeth  and  claws.  I  —  I  begin  to  wish  I 


Santa    Fe's  Partner 

hadn't  come!"  And  the  Hen  snuggled  up 
closer  and  shivered  bad. 

Boston  seemed  to  be  doing  some  shivers  on 
his  own  account,  judging  from  the  way  his 
guns  rattled;  and  his  teeth  was  so  chattery 
his  talking  come  queer.  But  he  managed  to 
get  out  that  if  they  was  inside  the  house 
they'd  have  more  chances — and  he  went  to 
work  trying  to  open  the  door.  When  he 
found  he  couldn't — it  being  locked  so  good 
there  was  no  budging  it — he  got  worse  jolted, 
and  his  breath  seemed  to  be  coming  hard. 

The  Hen  got  a-hold  of  him  again  and 
done  some  more  shivers,  and  then  she  says: 
"  It  all  will  be  over,  one  way  or  the  other,  in 
a  very  few  moments  now.  And  oh,  how 
thankful  I  am — since  so  needlessly  and  so 
foolishly  I  have  placed  myself  in  this  deadly 
peril — that  I  have  for  my  protector  a  brave 
man!  If  salvation  is  possible,  you  will  save 
me  I  am  sure!" 

Boston  tried  to  say  something,  but  he'd 
got  so  he  was  beyond  talking  and  only  gagged ; 
and  while  he  was  a-gagging  there  come  a 
queer  noise — sounding  like  it  was  a  critter 


Boston's    Lion-hunt 

crawling  around  in  among  the  bushes — that 
made  him  most  jump  out  of  his  skin !  Down 
went  his  guns  on  the  ground  all  in  a  clatter; 
and  he  was  scared  so  limp  he'd  a-gone  down 
a-top  of  'em  if  the  Hen  hadn't  got  a  good  grip 
on  him  with  both  arms.  They  stood  that 
way  more'n  a  minute,  with  him  a-shaking  all 
over  and  the  Hen  doing  some  shaking  for 
company — and  then  she  hiked  him  round  so 
he  pointed  right  and  says:  "Look!  Look! 
There  by  those  little  bushes!  Oh  how  hor 
rible!"  And  the  Hen  give  a  groan. 

What  was  wanted  to  be  looked  at  was  on 
hand,  right  enough — and  I  reckon  it  showed 
to  most  advantage  by  about  as  much  light  as 
it  got  from  the  stars.  All  they  could  make 
sure  of  was  something  alive,  moving  sort  of 
awkward  and  jumpy,  coming  out  from  a 
tangle  of  mesquite  bushes  not  more'n  three 
rods  off  and  heading  straight  for  'em;  and 
seeing  it  the  way  they  did — just  a  black 
splotch  all  mixed  in  with  the  shadows  of  the 
bushes — it  looked  to  be  most  as  big  as  a  cow! 
Limp  as  he  was — so  you'd  a-thought  there 
wasn't  any  yell  in  him — Boston  let  off  a  yell 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

that  likely  was  heard  clear  across -the  mesa 
at  San  Juan! 

"Shoot!"  says  the  Hen.  "I  can't.  I'm 
too  frightened.  Shoot  quick  —  or  we  are 
lost!"  She  let  go  of  him,  so  he  could  reach 
down  to  where  he'd  spilled  his  gun-shop  and 
get  a  weepon ;  but  Boston  wasn't  on  the  shoot, 
and  he  hadn't  no  use  for  weepons  just  then. 
All  he  wanted  to  do  was  to  run;  and  if  the 
Hen  hadn't  got  a  fresh  grip  on  him  and  held 
him — she  was  a  strapping  strong  woman,  the 
Hen  was — he  would  a-made  a  bolt  for  it 
certain  sure. 

"No!  No!  Don't  attempt  to  run!"  says 
the  Hen,  talking  scared  and  desprit.  "In 
an  instant,  should  we  turn  our  backs  on  him, 
the  terrible  creature  would  be  upon  us  with 
one  long  cruel  bound!" 

From  the  way  the  terrible  creature,  as  the 
Hen  called  him,  was  a-going  on  —  sort  of 
hopping  up  and  down,  and  not  making  much 
headway — it  didn't  look  as  if  long  cruel 
bounds  was  what  he  was  most  used  to.  But 
Boston  wasn't  studying  the  matter  extra 
careful,  and  as  the  Hen  found  he  took  pretty 
158 


Boston's    Lion-hunt 

much  what  she  give  him  she  just  cracked 
along. 

"To  run,  I  tell  you,"  says  the  Hen,  "is 
but  to  court  the  quicker  coming  of  the  tort 
uring  death  to  which  we  are  doomed.  It 
will  come  quick  enough,  anyway!" — and  she 
handed  out  a  fresh  lot  of  shivers,  and  thro  wed 
in  sobs.  Then  she  give  a  jump,  as  if  the 
notion  'd  just  struck  her,  and  says:  "There 
is  a  chance  for  us!  Up  on  the  roof  of  this 
house  we  may  be  safe.  Lions  can  spring 
enormous  distances  horizontally,  you  know; 
but,  save  in  exceptional  cases,  their  vertical 
jumping  powers  are  restricted  to  a  marked 
degree.  Quick!  Put  your  foot  in  my  hand 
and  let  me  start  you.  When  you  are  up,  you 
can  pull  me  up  after  you.  Now  then !" — and 
the  Hen  reached  her  hand  down  so  she  could 
get  a-hold  of  Boston's  foot  and  give  him  a 
send. 

Her  using  them  long  words  about  the  way 
lions  did  their  jumping — being  the  kind  of 
talk  he  was  used  to — seemed  to  sort  of  brace 
him.  Anyways — the  lion  helping  hurry  things 
by  just  then  giving  another  jump  or  two — 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

he  managed  to  have  sense  enough  to  put  his 
foot  in  the  Hen's  hand,  same  as  she  told  him; 
and  then  she  let  out  her  muscle  and  give  him 
such  an  up-start  he  was  landed  on  the  roof 
of  the  'dobe  afore  he  fairly  knowed  he'd 
begun  to  go!  Being  landed,  he  just  sprawled 
out  flat — and  getting  the  Hen  up  after  him 
seemed  to  be  about  the  last  thing  he  had  on 
his  mind. 

"Help!  Help!"  sung  out  the  Hen.  "The 
lion  is  almost  on  me!  Give  me  your  hand!" 
But  Boston  wasn't  in  no  shape  to  give  hands 
to  nobody.  All  he  did  was  to  kick  his  legs 
about  and  let  off  groans. 

"Oh,  I  understand,  now,"  says  the  Hen  in 
a  minute.  "You  are  crying  out  in  the  hope 
of  luring  the  creature  into  trying  to  reach 
you — as  he  can,  if  he  happens  to  be  one  of 
the  exceptional  jumpers — and  so  give  me  a 
chance  to  get  away.  How  noble  that  is  of 
you!  I  shall  take  the  chance,  my  brave 
preserver,  that  your  self-sacrifice  gives  me — 
and  I  shall  collect,  and  bedew  with  tears  of 
gratitude,  all  that  the  savage  monster  leaves 
me  of  your  bones!  Heaven  bless  you — and 
1 60 


Boston's   Lion-hunt 

good-bye !"  And  away  the  Hen  cut — leaving 
Boston  high  and  dry  on  the  roof  of  the  'dobe, 
so  scared  he  just  lay  there  like  a  wet  rag. 

She  didn't  cut  far,  the  Hen  didn't.  The 
rest  of  us  was  a-setting  around  under  the 
mesquite  bushes,  and  she  joined  the  party 
and  set  down  too — stuffing  her  handkerchief 
into  her  mouth,  and  holding  both  hands 
jammed  tight  over  it,  to  keep  from  yelling 
out  with  the  laugh  that  was  pretty  near 
cracking  her  sides. 

Then  we  all  waited  till  daylight — with 
Shorty,  who  had  charge  of  the  lion,  working 
that  animal  as  seemed  to  be  needed  whenever 
Boston  quieted  down  with  his  groans.  All 
hands  really  enjoyed  theirselves,  and  it  was 
one  of  the  shortest  nights  I  think  I  ever 
knowed. 

Daylight  comes  sudden  in  them  parts. 
One  minute  it's  so  darkish  you  can't  see  noth 
ing — and  the  next  minute  the  sun  comes  up 
with  a  bounce  from  behind  the  mountains 
and  things  is  all  clear. 

When  the  sun  did  his  part  of  the  work  and 
161 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

give  all  the  light  was  needed,  we  done  ours — 
which  was  coming  out  from  among  the  mes- 
quite  bushes  and  saying  good-morning  polite 
to  Boston,  up  on  the  roof  of  the  'dobe,  and 
then  taking  the  hobbles  off  old  man  Gutier 
rez's  jackass  so  it  could  walk  away  home. 

The  Hen  felt  she  needed  to  have  one  more 
shot,  and  she  took  it.  "My  brave  pre 
server  1"  says  the  Hen,  speaking  cheerful. 
"  Come  down  to  me — that  I  may  bedew  with 
tears  of  gratitude  your  bones!" 


VI 

SHORTY  SMITH'S  HANGING 

>ME  of  them  summer  days  in 
Palomitas  was  that  hot  they'd 
melt  the  stuffing  out  of  a  light 
ning-rod,  and  you  could  cook 
eggs  in  the  pockets  of  your 
pants.  When  things  was  that  way  the  town 
was  apt  to  get  quieted  down  —  most  being 
satisfied  to  take  enough  drinks  early  to  make 
it  pleasant  spending  the  rest  of  the  day  sleep 
ing  'em  off  somewheres  in  the  shade.  Along 
late  in  the  afternoon,  though,  the  wind  al 
ways  breezed  down  real  cool  and  pleasant 
from  the  mountains  —  and  then  the  boys 
would  wake  up  and  get  a  brace  on,  and  what 
ever  was  going  to  happen  would  begin. 

Being  that  sort  of  weather,  nobody  was 
paying  no  attention  worth  speaking  of  to 
163 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

nothing:  and  when  the  Denver  train  come 
in — being  about  three  hours  late,  like  it  had 
a  way  of  being,  after  a  wash-out — the  place 
was  in  such  a  blister  that  pretty  much  all 
you  could  hear  to  show  anybody  was  alive 
in  Palomitas  was  snores.  Besides  Wood — 
who  had  to  be  awake  to  do  his  work  when 
the  train  got  there — and  the  clump  of  Mexi 
cans  that  always  hung  around  the  deepo  at 
train-time,  there  wasn't  half  a  dozen  folks 
with  their  eyes  open  in  the  whole  town. 

Santa  F6  Charley  was  one  of  the  few  that 
was  awake  and  sober.  He  made  a  point, 
Santa  F6  did,  of  being  on  hand  when  the 
train  come  in  because  there  always  was 
chances  somebody  might  be  aboard  he  could 
do  business  with ;  and  he  had  to  keep  sober, 
mostly,  same  as  I've  said,  or  he  couldn't 
a-done  his  work  so  it  would  pay.  He  used 
to  square  things  up — when  he  really  couldn't 
stand  the  strain  no  longer — by  knocking  off 
dealing  and  having  a  good  one  lasting  about 
a  week  at  a  time.  It  was  while  he  was  on 
one  of  them  tears  of  his,  going  it  worse'n 
usual,  he  got  cleaned  out  in  Denver  Jones's 
164 


Shorty   Smith's   Hanging 

place — and  him  able,  when  he  hadn't  a  jag 
on,  to  wipe  up  the  floor  with  Denver! — and 
then  went  ahead  the  next  day,  being  still 
jagged,  and  shot  poor  old  Bill  Hart.  But 
them  is  matters  that  happened  a  little  later, 
and  will  be  spoke  of  further  on. 

When  the  train  pulled  in  alongside  the 
deepo  platform  it  didn't  seem  at  first  there 
was  nobody  on  it  but  the  usual  raft  of  Mexi 
cans  with  bundles  in  the  day-coach — who  all 
come  a-trooping  out,  cluttered  up  with  their 
queer  duds,  and  went  to  hugging  their  aunts 
and  uncles  who  was  waiting  for  'em  in  real 
Mexican  style.  Charley  looked  the  lot  over 
and  seen  there  was  nothing  in  it  worth  taking 
time  to;  and  then  he  got  his  Denver  paper 
from  the  messenger  in  the  express-car  and 
started  off  to  go  on  back  to  his  room  in  the 
Forest  Queen. 

Down  he  come  along  the  platform — he  was 
a-looking  at  his  Tribune,  and  not  paying  no 
attention — and  just  as  he  got  alongside  the 
Pullman  a  man  stepped  off  it  and  most 
plumped  into  him;  and  would  a-plumped  if 

165 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

he  hadn't  been  so  beat  out  by  the  hot  weather 
he  was  going  slow.  He  was  a  little  round 
friendly  looking  feller,  with  a  red  face  and 
little  gray  side-whiskers ;  and  he  was  dressed 
up  in  black  same  as  Charley  was— only  he'd 
a  shorter-tailed  coat,  and  hadn't  a  white  tie 
on,  and  was  wearing  a  shiny  plug  hat  that 
looked  most  extra  unsuitable  in  them  parts 
on  that  sort  of  a  day. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir!"  says  the  little 
man,  as  he  pulled  himself  up  just  in  time  to 
keep  from  bumping. 

Charley  bowed  handsome — there  was  no 
ketching  off  Santa  F6  when  it  come  to  slinging 
good  manners,  his  being  that  gentlemanly  he 
could  a-give  points  to  a  New  York  barkeep — 
and  says  back :  "  Sir,  I  beg  yours !  Heedless- 
ness  is  my  besetting  sin.  The  fault  is  mine !' ' 
And  then  he  said,  keeping  on  talking  the 
toney  way  he  knowed  how  to:  "I  trust,  sir, 
that  you  are  not  incommoded  by  the  heat. 
Even  for  New  Mexico  in  August,  this  is  a 
phenomenally  hot  day." 

41  Incommoded  is  no  name  for  it!"  says  the 
little  man,  taking  off  his  shiny  hat  and  mop- 
166 


IT'S    HOTTER    THAN    SAHARA!'    SAID    THE    ENGLISHMAN" 


Shorty   Smiths   Hanging 

ping  away  at  himself  with  his  pocket-hand 
kerchief.  "  I  've  never  encountered  such  heat 
anywhere.  It's  hotter  than  Sahara!  In 
England  we  have  nothing  like  it  at  all." 
Then  he  mopped  himself  some  more,  and 
went  ahead  again  —  seeming  glad  to  have 
somebody  to  let  out  to:  " My  whole  life  long 
I've  been  finding  fault  with  our  August 
weather  in  London.  I'll  never  find  fault 
with  it  again.  I'd  give  fifty  pounds  to  be 
back  there  now,  even  in  my  office  in  the 
City — and  I'd  give  a  hundred  willingly  if  I 
could  walk  out  of  this  frying-pan  into  my 
own  home  in  the  Avenue  Road!  If  you 
know  London,  sir,  you  know  that  St.  John's 
Wood  is  the  coolest  part  of  it,  and  that 
the  coolest  part  of  St.  John's  Wood — up  by 
the  side  of  Primrose  Hill — is  the  Avenue 
Road ;  and  so  you  can  understand  why  think 
ing  about  coming  out  from  the  Underground 
and  walking  homeward  in  the  cool  of  the 
evening  almost  gives  me  a  pain!" 

Santa  F6  allowed  he  wasn't  acquainted 
with  that  locality;  but  he  said  he  hadn't  no 
doubt — since  you  couldn't  get  a  worse  one — 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

it  was  a  better  place  in  summer  than  Palo- 
mitas.  And  then  he  kind  of  chucked  it  in 
casual  that  as  the  little  man  didn't  seem  to 
take  much  stock  in  Palomitas  maybe  he'd 
a-done  as  well  if  he'd  stuck  at  home. 

Charley's  talking  that  way  brought  out  he 
wasn't  there  because  he  wanted  to  be,  but 
because  he  was  sent:  coming  to  look  things 
over  for  the  English  stockholders — who  was 
about  sick,  he  said,  of  dropping  assessments 
in  the  slot  and  nothing  coming  out  when 
they  pushed  the  button — before  they  chipped 
in  the  fresh  stake  they  was  asked  for  to  help 
along  with  the  building  of  the  road.  He  said 
he  about  allowed,  though,  the  call  was  a 
square  one,  what  he'd  seen  being  in  the  road's 
favor  and  as  much  as  was  claimed  for  it;  but 
when  it  come  to  the  country  and  the  people, 
he  said,  there  was  no  denying  they  both  was 
as  beastly  as  they  could  be.  Then  he  turned 
round  sudden  on  Santa  Fe*  and  says :  "I  infer 
from  your  dress,  sir,  that  you  are  in  Orders ; 
and  I  therefore  assume  that  you  represent 
what  little  respectability  this  town  has.  Will 
you  kindly  tell  me  if  it  is  possible  in  this 


Shorty   Smith's    Hanging 

filthy  place  to  procure  a  brandy-and-soda, 
and  a  bath,  and  any  sort  of  decent  food?" 

It  always  sort  of  tickled  Santa  Fe,  same  as 
I've  said,  when  a  tenderfoot  took  him  for  a 
fire-escape;  and  when  it  happened  that  way 
he  give  it  back  to  'em  in  right-enough  parson 
talk.  So  he  says  to  the  little  man,  speaking 
benevolent:  "In  our  poor  way,  sir,  we  can 
satisfy  your  requirements.  At  the  Forest 
Queen  Hotel,  over  there,  you  can  procure  the 
liquid  refreshment  that  you  name;  and  also 
food  as  good  as  our  little  community  affords. 
As  for  your  bath,  we  can  provide  it  on  a 
scale  of  truly  American  magnificence.  We 
can  offer  you  a  tub,  sir,  very  nearly  two 
thousand  miles  long!" 

"A  tub  two  thousand  miles  long?"  says 
the  little  man.  "Oh,  come  now,  you're 
chaffing  me.  There  can't  be  a  tub  like  that, 
you  know.  There  really  can't!" 

"I  refer,  sir,"  says  Santa  Fe,  "to  the  Rio 
Grande." 

The  little  man  took  his  time  getting  there, 
but  when  he  did  ketch  up  he  laughed  hearty. 
"How  American  that  is!"  says  he.  And 
169 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

then  he  says  over  again:  "How  American 
that  is!" — and  he  laughed  some  more.  Then 
he  said  he'd  start  'em  to  getting  his  grub 
ready  while  he  was  bathing  in  that  two- 
thousand-mile  bath-tub,  and  he'd  have  his 
brandy-and-soda  right  away;  and  he  asked 
Charley — speaking  doubtful,  and  looking  at 
his  white  necktie — if  he'd  have  one  too? 

Charley  said  he  just  would;  and  it  was 
seeing  how  sort  of  surprised  the  little  man 
looked,  he  told  the  boys  afterwards,  set  him 
to  thinking  he  might  as  well  kill  time  that  hot 
day  trying  how  much  stuffing  that  sort  of  a 
tenderfoot  would  hold.  He  said  at  first  he 
only  meant  to  play  a  short  lone  hand  for  the 
fun  of  the  thing ;  and  it  was  the  way  the  little 
man  swallowed  whatever  was  give  him,  he 
said,  that  made  the  game  keep  on  a-growing 
— till  it  ended  up  by  roping  in  the  whole 
town.  So  off  he  went,  explaining  fatherly 
how  it  come  that  preachers  and  brandys-and- 
sodas  in  Palomitas  got  along  together  first 
class. 

"In  this  wildly  lawless  and  sinful  com 
munity,  sir,"  says  he,  "  I  find  that  my  humble 
170 


Shorty   Smith's    Hanging 

efforts  at  moral  improvement  are  best  ad 
vanced  by  identifying  my  life  as  closely  as 
may  be  with  the  lives  of  those  whom  I  would 
lead  to  higher  planes.  At  first,  in  my  ig 
norance,  I  held  aloof  from  participating  in 
the  customs  —  many  of  them,  seemingly, 
objectionable  —  of  my  parishioners.  Natu 
rally,  in  turn,  they  held  aloof  from  me.  I 
made  no  impression  upon  them.  The  good 
seed  that  I  scattered  freely  fell  upon  barren 
ground.  Now,  as  the  result  of  experience, 
and  of  much  soulful  thought,  I  am  wiser. 
Over  a  friendly  glass  at  the  bar  of  the  Forest 
Queen,  or  at  other  of  the  various  bars  in  our 
little  town,  I  can  talk  to  a  parishioner  with  a 
kindly  familiarity  that  brings  him  close  to  me. 
By  taking  part  in  the  games  of  chance  which 
form  the  main  amusement  of  my  flock,  I  still 
more  closely  can  identify  their  interests  with 
my  own — and  even  materially  improve,  by 
such  winnings  as  come  to  me  in  our  friendly 
encounters,  our  meagre  parish  finances.  I 
have  as  yet  taken  no  share  in  the  gun-fights 
which  too  frequently  occur  in  our  somewhat 
tempestuous  little  community;  but  I  am 
171 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

seriously  considering  the  advisability  of  still 
farther  strengthening  my  hold  upon  the  re 
spect  and  the  affection  of  my  parishioners  by 
now  and  then  exchanging  shots  with  them.  I 
am  confident  that  such  energetic  action  on 
my  part  will  tend  still  more  to  endear  me  to 
them — and,  after  all,  I  must  not  be  too  nicely 
fastidious  as  to  means  if  I  would  compass 
my  end  of  winning  their  trust  and  their 
esteem." 

While  Santa  F6  was  talking  along  so  slick 
about  the  way  he  managed  his  parsoning,  the 
little  man's  eyes  was  getting  bulgier  and 
bulgier;  and  when  it  come  to  his  taking  a 
hand  in  shooting -scrapes  they  looked  like 
they  was  going  to  jump  out  of  his  head.  All 
he  could  say  was:  "Good  Lord!"  Then  he 
kind  of  gagged,  and  said  he'd  be  obliged  if  he 
could  get  his  bra,ndy-and-soda  right  off. 

Charley  steered  him  across  to  the  Forest 
Queen,  and  when  he  had  his  drink  in  him, 
and  another  on  top  of  it,  he  seemed  to  get 
some  of  his  grip  back.  But  even  after  his 
drinks  he  seemed  like  he  thought  he  must  be 
asleep  and  dreaming ;  and  he  said  twice  over 
172 


Shorty   Smith's   Hanging 

he'd  never  heard  tell  of  such  doings  in  all  his 
born  days. 

Santa  Fe  just  give  a  wink  across  the  bar  to 
Blister  Mike — who  didn't  need  much  wink 
ing,  being  a  wide-awake  one — and  then  he 
went  ahead  with  some  more  of  the  same  kind. 
''No  doubt,  my  dear  sir,  in  the  older  civiliza 
tion  to  which  you  are  accustomed  my  meth 
ods  would  seem  irregular  —  perhaps  even 
reprehensible.  In  England,  very  likely,  un 
favorable  comment  would  be  made  upon  a 
pastor  who  cordially  drank  with  members  of 
his  flock  at  public  bars;  who  also — I  do  not 
hesitate,  you  see,  to  give  our  little  games  of 
chance  their  harshest  name  —  in  a  friendly 
way  gambled  with  them;  and  I  can  imagine 
that  the  spectacle  of  a  parish  priest  engaging 
with  his  parishioners,  up  and  down  the  street 
of  a  quiet  village,  in  a  fight  with  six-shooters 
and  Winchesters  would  be  very  generally 
disapproved." 

"It  is  impossible,  quite  impossible,"  says 
the  little  man,  sort  of  gaspy,  "to  imagine 
such  a  horrible  monstrosity!" 

"Very  likely  for  you,  sir,"  says  Charley, 
173 


Santa    Fe's  Partner 

speaking  affable,  "it  is.  But  you  must  re 
member  that  ours  is  a  young  and  a  vigorous 
community — too  young,  too  vigorous,  to  be 
cramped  and  trammelled  by  obsolete  con 
ventions  and  narrow  Old- World  rules.  Life 
with  us,  you  see,  has  an  uncertain  suddenness 
— owing  to  our  energetic  habit  of  settling  our 
little  differences  promptly,  and  in  a  decisive 
way.  At  the  last  meeting  of  our  Sunshine 
Club,  for  instance — as  the  result  of  a  short 
but  heated  argument — Brother  Michael,  here, 
felt  called  upon  to  shoot  a  fellow-member. 
While  recognizing  that  the  occurrence  was 
unavoidable,  we  regretted  it  keenly — Brother 
Michael  most  of  all." 

"Sure  I  did  that,*'  said  Blister,  playing  out 
quick  to  the  lead  Charley  give  him.  "But 
your  Reverence  remembers  he  drew  on  me 
first — and  if  he'd  been  sober  enough  to  shoot 
straight  it's  meself,  and  not  him,  would  be 
by  now  living  out  in  the  cemetery  on  the 
mesa;  and  another'd  be  serving  your  drinks 
to  you  across  this  bar.  I  had  the  rights  on 
my  side." 

"Precisely,"  says  Charley.     "You  see,  sir, 


Shorty   Smith's   Hanging 

it  was  a  perfectly  fair  fight.  Brother  Michael 
and  his  fellow-member  exchanged  their  shots 
in  an  honorable  manner  —  and,  while  we 
mourn  the  sudden  decease  of  our  friend  lost 
to  us,  our  friend  who  survives  has  suffered 
no  diminution  of  our  affectionate  regard. 
Had  the  shooting  been  unfair,  then  the  case 
would  have  gone  into  another  category — and 
our  community  promptly  would  have  mani 
fested  the  sturdy  sense  of  justice  that  is  in 
herent  in  it  by  hanging  the  man  by  whom 
the  unfair  shot  had  been  fired.  Believe  me, 
sir" — and  Santa  Fe  stood  up  straight  and 
stuck  his  chest  out — "Palomitas  has  its  own 
high  standards  of  morality:  and  it  never 
fails  to  maintain  those  standards  in  its  own 
stern  way!" 

The  little  man  didn't  say  nothing  back. 
He  looked  like  he  was  sort  of  mazed.  All  he 
did  was  to  ask  for  another  brandy-and-soda ; 
and  when  he'd  took  it  he  allowed  he'd  skip 
having  his  bath  and  get  at  his  eating  right 
away — saying  he  was  feeling  faintish,  and 
maybe  what  he  needed  was  food.  Of  course 
that  was  no  time  of  day  to  get  victuals :  but 

12  175 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

Santa  Fe  was  a  good  one  at  managing,  and 
he  fixed  it  up  so  he  had  some  sort  of  a  hash 
layout;  and  before  he  went  at  it  he  give  him 
a  wash-up  in  his  own  room. 

It  was  while  he  was  hashing,  Charley  said, 
the  notion  come  to  him  how  Palomitas  might 
have  some  real  sport  with  him— the  same  kind 
they  had  when  Hart's  aunt  come  on  her  visit, 
only  twisting  things  round  so  it  would  be  the 
holy  terror  side  of  the  town  that  had  the 
show.  And  he  said  as  he'd  started  in  with 
the  preacher  racket,  he  thought  they  might 
keep  that  up  too — and  make  such  an  out  and 
out  mix-up  for  the  little  man  as  would  give 
cards  to  any  tenderfoot  game  that  ever  was 
played.  Santa  Fe  always  was  full  of  his 
pranks:  and  this  one  looked  to  pan  out  so 
well,  and  was  so  easy  done,  that  he  went  right 
across  to  the  deepo  and  had  a  talk  with  Wood 
about  how  things  had  better  be  managed; 
and  Wood,  who  liked  fun  as  much  as  any 
body,  caught  on  quick  and  agreed  to  take  a 
hand. 

The  little  man  seemed  to  get  a  brace  when 
he  had  his  grub  inside  of  him;  and  over  he 
176 


Shorty   Smith's   Hanging 

went  to  the  deepo  and  give  Wood  the  order 
he  had  from  the  President  to  see  the  books — 
and  was  real  intelligent,  Wood  said,  in  finding 
out  how  railroading  in  them  parts  was  done. 
But  when  he'd  cleaned  up  his  railroad  job, 
and  took  to  asking  questions  about  the 
Territory,  and  Palomitas,  and  things  gen 
erally — and  got  the  sort  of  answers  Santa 
F6  had  fixed  should  be  give  him,  with  some 
more  throwed  in — Wood  said  his  feet  showed 
to  be  that  tender  he  allowed  it  would  a-hurt 
him  with  thick  boots  on  to  walk  on  boiled 
beans. 

Wood  said  he  guessed  he  broke  the  lying 
record  that  afternoon ;  and  he  said  he  reckon 
ed  if  the  little  man  swallowed  half  of  what  was 
give  him,  and  there  wasn't  much  of  anything 
he  gagged  at,  he  must  a-thought  Palomitas — 
with  its  church  twice  Sundays  and  prayer- 
meetings  regular  three  times  a  week,  and  its 
faro-bank  with  the  preacher  for  dealer,  and 
its  Sunshine  Club  that  was  all  mixed  in  with 
shooting-scrapes,  and  its  Friendly  Aid  Society 
that  attended  mostly  to  what  lynchings  was 
needed — was  something  like  a  bit  of  heaven 
177 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

that  had  broke  out  from  the  corral  it  belonged 
in  and  gone  to  grazing  in  hell's  front  yard! 

When  he'd  stuffed  him  as  much  as  was 
needed,  Wood  told  him — Santa  F6  having 
fixed  it  that  way — there  was  a  Mexican 
church  about  a  thousand  years  old  over  in  the 
Canada  that  was  worth  looking  at;  and  he 
told  him  he'd  take  him  across  on  his  buck- 
board  to  see  it  if  he  cared  to  go.  He  bit  at 
that,  just  as  Santa  ¥6  counted  on ;  and  about 
four  o'clock  off  they  went — it  was  only  three 
mile  or  so  down  to  the  Canada — in  good  time 
to  get  him  back  and  give  him  what  more  was 
coming  to  him  before  he  started  off  North 
again  on  the  night  train.  Wood  said  the  ride 
was  real  enjoyable — the  little  man  showing 
up  as  sensible  as  anybody  when  he  got  to  the 
church  and  struck  things  he  knowed  about; 
and  it  turned  out  he  could  talk  French,  and 
that  pleased  the  padre — he  was  that  French 
one  I've  spoke  about,  who  was  as  white  as 
they  make  'em — and  so  things  went  along  well. 

The  wind  had  set  in  to  blow  down  the 
valley  cool  and  pleasant  as  they  was  getting 
178 


Shorty   Smith's    Hanging 

along  home;  and  coming  down  on  it,  when 
they  got  about  half  a  mile  from  Palomitas, 
they  begun  to  hear  shooting — and  it  kept  on, 
and  more  of  it,  the  closer  they  come  to  town. 
Knowing  what  Santa  Fe  had  set  the  boys  up 
to,  Wood  said  he  pretty  near  laughed  out 
when  he  heard  it;  but  he  held  in,  he  said — 
and  told  the  little  man,  when  he  asked  what 
it  meant,  that  it  didn't  mean  nothing  in  par 
ticular:  being  only  some  sort  of  a  shooting- 
scrape,  like  enough — the  same  as  often  hap 
pened  along  about  that  time  in  the  afternoon. 
He  said  the  little  man  looked  queerish, 
and  wanted  to  know  if  the  men  in  the  town 
was  shooting  at  a  target ;  and  when  Wood  said 
he  guessed  they  was  targetting  at  each  other, 
and  likely  there'd  be  some  occurrences,  he 
said  he  looked  queerisher  —  and  said  such 
savagery  was  too  horrible  to  be  true.  But 
he  wasn't  worried  a  bit  about  himself,  Wood 
said — he  was  as  nervy  a  little  man,  Wood 
said,  as  he'd  ever  got  up  to — and  all  he  want 
ed  was  to  have  Wood  whip  the  mules  up, 
so  he'd  get  there  quick  and  see  what  was 
going  on.  Wood  whipped  up,  right  enough, 
179 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

and  the  mules  took  'em  a-kiting — going  at  a 
full  run  the  last  half-mile  or  so,  and  not  com 
ing  down  to  a  walk  till  they'd  crossed  the 
bridge  over  the  Rio  Grande  and  was  most  to 
the  top  of  the  hill.  At  the  top  of  the  hill 
they  stopped — and  that  was  a  good  place  to 
stop  at,  for  the  circus  was  agoing  on  right 
there. 

Things  really  did  look  serious;  and  Wood 
said — for  all  he'd  been  told  what  was  coming 
— he  more'n  half  thought  the  boys  had  got  to 
rumpussing  in  dead  earnest.  Three  or  four 
was  setting  on  the  ground  with  their  sleeves 
and  pants  rolled  up  tying  up  their  arms  and 
legs  with  their  pocket-handkerchiefs;  there 
was  a  feller — Nosey  Green,  it  turned  out  to  be 
— laying  on  one  side  in  a  sort  of  mixed-up 
heap  like  as  if  he'd  dropped  sudden ;  right  in 
the  middle  of  the  road  Blister  Mike  was 
sprawled  out,  with  Santa  F6 — his  black 
clothes  all  over  dust  and  his  hat  off — holding 
his  head  with  one  hand  and  feeling  at  his 
heart  with  the  other;  and  just  as  the  buck- 
board  stopped,  right  in  the  thick  of  it, 
Kerosene  Kate  come  a-tearing  along,  with  the 
1 80 


Shorty   Smith's    Hanging 

Sage-Brush  Hen  close  after  her,  and  plumped 
down  on  Mike  and  yelled  out:  "Oh,  my  hus 
band!  My  poor  husband!  He  is  foully 
slain!" 

It  was  all  so  natural,  Wood  said,  that  see 
ing  it  sudden  that  way  give  him  a  first-class 
jolt.  For  a  minute,  he  said,  he  couldn't 
help  thinking  it  was  the  real  thing.  As  for 
the  little  man — and  he  likely  would  have 
took  matters  just  the  same,  and  no  blame  to 
him,  if  his  feet  had  been  as  hard  as  anybody's 
— he  swallowed  the  show  whole.  "Good 
Heavens!"  says  he,  getting  real  palish. 
"What  a  dreadful  thing  this  is!" 

Santa  let  go  of  Mike's  head  and  got  up, 
brushing  his  pants  off,  and  says  solemn: 
"Our  poor  brother  has  passed  from  us. 
Palomitas  has  lost  one  of  its  most  useful 
citizens — there  was  nobody  who  could  mix 
drinks  as  he  could — and  the  world  has  lost  a 
noble  man!  Take  away  his  stricken  wife, 
my  dear,"  he  says,  speaking  to  the  Sage- 
Brush  Hen.  "Take  poor  Sister  Rebecca 
home  with  you  to  the  parsonage — my  duties 
lie  elsewhere  at  present — and  pour  out  to  her 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

from  your  tender  heart  the  balm  of  comfort 
that  you  so  well  know  how  to  give." 

Then  he  come  along  to  the  buck-board, 
and  says  to  the  little  man:  "I  greatly  regret 
that  this  unfortunate  incident  should  have 
occurred  while  you  are  with  us.  From 
every  point  of  view  the  event  is  lamentable. 
Brother  Green,  known  familiarly  among  us 
because  of  his  facial  peculiarity  as  Nosey 
Green — the  gentleman  piled  up  over  there  on 
the  other  side  of  the  road — was  as  noble- 
hearted  a  man  as  ever  lived ;  so  was  Brother 
Michael,  whom  you  met  in  all  the  pride  of  his 
manly  strength  only  this  morning  at  the 
Forest  Queen  bar.  Both  were  corner-stones 
of  our  Sunshine  Club,  and  among  the  most 
faithful  of  my  parishioners.  In  deep  de 
spondency  we  mourn  their  loss!" 

"It  is  dreadful— dreadful!"  says  the  little 
man.  And  then  he  wanted  to  know  how  the 
shooting  begun. 

"  The  dispute  that  has  come  to  this  doubly 
fatal  ending,"  says  Santa  Fe",  shaking  his 
head  sorrowful,  "related  to  cock-tails.  In 
what  I  am  persuaded  was  a  purely  jesting 


Shorty   Smith's    Hanging 

spirit,  Brother  Green  cast  aspersions  upon 
Brother  Michael's  skill  as  a  drink-mixer.  The 
injustice  of  his  remarks,  even  in  jest,  aroused 
Brother  Michael's  hot  Celtic  nature  and  led 
to  a  retort,  harshly  personal,  that  excited 
Brother  Green's  anger — and  from  words  they 
passed  quickly  to  a  settlement  of  the  matter 
with  their  guns.  However,  as  the  fight  was 
conducted  by  both  of  them  in  an  honorable 
manner,  and  was  creditable  equally  to  their 
courage  and  to  their  proficiency  in  the  use 
of  arms,  it  is  now  a  back  number  and  we  may 
discharge  it  from  our  minds.  Moreover,  my 
dear  sir,  our  little  domestic  difficulties  must 
not  be  suffered  to  interfere  with  the  duties 
of  hospitality.  It  is  high  time  that  you 
should  have  your  supper ;  and  I  even  venture 
to  ask  that  you  will  hurry  your  meal  a  little — 
to  the  end  that  you  may  have  opportunity, 
before  the  departure  of  your  train  this  even 
ing,  to  see  something  of  the  brighter  side  of 
our  little  town.  After  this  sombre  scene, 
you  will  find,  I  trust,  agreeable  mental  re 
freshment  in  witnessing — perhaps  even  in 
participating  in — our  friendly  card-playing, 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

and  in  taking  part  with  us  in  our  usual  cheer 
ful  evening  dance.  By  your  leave,  Brother 
Wood,  I  will  seat  myself  on  the  rear  of  your 
buck-board  and  drive  along  with  you  into 
town." 

The  little  man  was  too  jolted  to  say  any 
thing — and  up  Charley  hiked  on  the  back  of 
the  buck-board,  and  away  they  went  down 
the  road.  The  rest  followed  on  after:  with 
the  Hen  holding  fast  to  Kerosene,  and  Kero 
sene  yelling  for  all  she  was  worth ;  and  behind 
come  some  of  the  boys  toting  Blister's  corpse 
— with  Blister  swearing  at  'em  for  the  way 
they  had  his  legs  twisted,  and  ending  by  kick 
ing  loose  and  making  a  break  by  the  short 
cut  back  of  the  freight-house  for  home.  The 
other  corpse  —  seeing  the  way  Blister  was 
monkeyed  with  —  stood  off  the  ones  that 
wanted  to  carry  him,  allowing  he'd  be  more 
comfortable  if  he  walked. 

When  the  buck-board  got  down  to  the 

deepo  the  little  man  said  he  felt  sickish — not 

being  used  to  such  goings-on  —  and  didn't 

care  much  for  eating  his  supper;    and  he 

184 


Shorty   Smith's   Hanging 

said  he  thought  likely  he'd  be  better  if  he 
had  a  brandy-and-soda  to  settle  his  insides. 
So  him  and  Santa  F6  went  across  to  the 
Forest  Queen  to  get  it — and  the  first  thing 
they  struck  was  Blister,  come  to  life  again, 
behind  the  bar! 

Santa  Fe*  hadn't  counted  on  that  card 
coming  out — but  he  shook  one  to  meet  it 
down  his  sleeve,  and  played  it  as  quick  as 
he  knowed  how.  "Ah,  Patrick,"  says  he, 
"so  you  have  taken  your  poor  brother's 
place."  And  to  the  little  man,  who  was 
staring  at  Blister  like  a  stuck  pig,  he  says: 
"They  were  twin  brothers,  sir,  this  gentle 
man  and  the  deceased — and,  as  you  see,  so 
alike  that  few  of  their  closest  friends  could 
tell  them  apart." 

"It  was  worse  than  that,"  says  Blister, 
following  right  along  with  the  same  suit. 
"Only  when  one  of  us  was  drunk  and  the 
other  sober,  and  that  way  there  being  a  dif 
ference  betwane  us,  could  we  tell  our  own 
selves  apart — and  indade  I'm  half  for  think 
ing  that  maybe  it's  meself,  and  not  poor 
Mike,  that's  been  killed  by  Nosey  Green  this 
185  ' 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

day.  But  whichever  of  us  it  is  that's  dead, 
it's  a  domn  good  job — if  your  Reverence  will 
excuse  me  saying  so — the  other  one  of  us 
has  made  of  Nosey:  bad  luck  to  the  heart 
and  lights  of  him,  that  are  cooking  this 
blessed  minute  in  the  hottest  corner  of 
hell!" 

"Tut!  Tut!  Brother  Patrick,"  says  Santa 
Fe,  speaking  friendly  but  serious.  "You 
know  how  strongly  I  feel  about  profanity — 
even  when,  as  in  the  present  instance,  justly 
aroused  resentment  lends  to  it  a  colorable 
excuse.  And  also,  my  dear  brother,  I  beg 
you  to  temper  with  charity  your  views  as  to 
Brother  Green's  present  whereabouts.  It  is 
sufficient  for  all  purposes  of  human  justice 
that  he  has  passed  away.  And  now,  if.  you 
please,  you  will  supply  our  visitor,  here — 
whose  nerves  not  unnaturally  are  shaken  by 
the  tragic  events  of  the  past  hour — with  the 
brandy-and-soda  that  I  am  satisfied  he  really 
needs.  In  that  need,  my  own  nerves  being 
badly  disordered,  I  myself  share ;  and  as  the 
agonizing  loss  that  you  have  suffered  has  put 
a  still  more  severe  strain  upon  your  nerves, 
1 86 


Shorty   Smith's   Hanging 

Brother  Patrick,  I  beg  that  you  will  join  us. 
The  drinks  are  on  me." 

"  Sure  your  Reverence  has  a  kind  heart  in 
you,  and  that's  the  holy  truth,"  says  Blister. 
"It's  to  me  poor  dead  brother's  health  I'll 
be  drinking,  and  with  all  the  good-will  in  the 
world!" 

They  had  another  after  that;  and  then 
Blister  said  there  was  luck  in  odd  numbers, 
and  he  wanted  to  show  Palomitas  knowed 
how  to  be  hospitable  to  strangers,  and  they 
must  have  one  on  the  bar.  They  had  it  all 
right,  and  by  that  time — having  the  three  of 
'em  in  him — the  little  man  said  he  was  feel- 
ing  better ;  but,  even  with  his  drinks  to  help 
him,  when  he  come  to  eating  his  supper  he 
didn't  make  out  much  of  a  meal.  He  seemed 
to  be  all  sort  of  dreamy,  and  was  like  he 
didn't  know  where  he  was. 

Santa  F6  kept  a-talking  away  to  him  cheer 
ful  while  they  was  hashing ;  and  when  they'd 
finished  off  he  told  him  he  hoped  what  he'd 
see  of  the  bright  side  of  Palomitas — before 
his  train  started — would  make  him  forget  the 
cruelly  sorrowful  shadows  of  that  melancholy 
187 


Santa   Fe's    Partner 

afternoon.  He  was  a  daisy  at  word-sling 
ing,  Charley  was — better'n  most  auctioneers. 
Then  they  come  along  together  back  to  the 
bar-room — where  the  cloth  was  off  the  table, 
and  the  cards  and  chips  out,  ready  for  busi 
ness  to  begin.  All  the  boys  was  jammed  in 
there — Nosey  Green  with  his  face  tied  up  like 
he  had  a  toothache,  so  it  didn't  show  who  he 
was — waiting  to  see  what  more  was  coming ; 
and  they  was  about  busting  with  the  laughs 
they  had  inside  'em,  and  ready  to  play  close 
up  to  Santa  Fe*'s  hand. 

Charley  set  down  to  deal,  same  as  usual, 
and  asked  the  little  man  to  set  down  aside  of 
him — telling  him  he'd  likely  be  interested  in 
knowing  that  what  come  to  the  bank  that 
night  would  go  to  getting  the  melodeon  the 
Sunday-school  needed  bad.  And  then  he 
shoved  the  cards  round  the  table,  and  things 
begun.  The  little  man  took  it  all  dreamy — 
saying  kind  of  to  himself  he'd  never  in  all 
his  born  days  expected  to  see  a  minister  mak 
ing  money  for  Sunday-school  melodeons  by 
running  a  faro-bank.  But  he  wasn't  so 
dreamy  but  he  had  sense  enough  to  keep  out 
188 


Shorty   Smith's   Hanging 

of  the  game.  Santa  Fe*  kept  a-asking  him 
polite  to  come  in;  but  he  kept  answering 
back  polite  he  wouldn't — saying  he  was  no 
sort  of  a  hand  at  cards. 

About  the  size  of  it  was,  in  all  the  matters 
he  could  see  his  way  to  that  little  man  had 
as  good  a  load  of  sand  as  anybody — and 
more'n  most.  Like  enough  at  home  he'd 
read  a  lot  of  them  fool  Wild  West  stories — 
the  kind  young  fellers  from  the  East,  who 
swallow  all  that's  told  'em,  write  up  in  books 
with  scare  pictures — and  that  was  why  in 
some  ways  he  was  so  easy  fooled.  But  I 
guess  it  would  a-been  a  mistake  to  pick  him 
up  for  a  fool  all  round.  Anyhow,  Santa  Fe 
got  a  set-back  from  him  on  his  melodeon- 
faro  racket — and  set-backs  didn't  often  come 
Santa  Fe's  way. 

It  wasn't  a  real  game  the  little  man  was 
up  against,  and  like  enough  he  had  the  savey 
to  ketch  on  to  what  was  being  give  him. 
For  the  look  of  the  thing  they'd  fixed  to  start 
with  a  baby  limit,  and  not  raise  it  till  he  got 
warmed  up  and  asked  to;  and  it  was  fixed 
only  what  he  dropped — the  rest  going  back 
1 89 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

to  the  boys — should  stay  with  the  bank. 
But  as  he  didn't  warm  up  any  worth  speak 
ing  of,  and  wasn't  giving  himself  no  chances 
at  all  to  do  any  dropping,  Santa  F6  pretty 
soon  found  out  they  might  as  well  hang  up 
the  melodeon  fund  and  go  on  to  the  next 
turn. 

The  Sage -Brush  Hen  managed  most  of 
what  come  next,  and  she  done  it  well.  She'd 
dressed  herself  up  in  them  white  clothes  of 
hers  with  a  little  blue  bow  tied  on  at  the 
neck — looking  that  quiet  and  tidy  and  real 
lady-like  you'd  never  a-notioned  what  a 
mixed  lot  she  was  truly — and  she'd  helped 
the  other  girls  rig  out  as  near  the  same  way 
as  they  could  come.  Some  of  'em  didn't 
come  far;  but  they  all  done  as  well  as  they 
knowed  how  to,  and  so  they  wasn't  to  be 
blamed.  Old  Tenderfoot  Sal — she  was  the 
limit,  Sal  was — wasn't  to  be  managed  no 
way;  so  they  just  kept  her  out  of  the  show. 

When  Santa  Fe  come  to  see  faro-banking 
for  melodeons  wasn't  money  -  making,  he 
passed  out  word  to  the  Hen  to  start  up  her 
190 


Shorty  Smith's   Hanging 

part  of  the  circus — and  in  the  Hen  come, 
looking  real  pretty  in  her  white  frock,  and 
put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder  married-like 
and  says:  "Now,  my  dear,  it  isn't  fair  for 
you  gentlemen  to  keep  us  ladies  waiting 
another  minute  longer.  We  want  our  share 
in  the  evening's  amusement.  Do  put  the 
cards  away  and  let  us  have  our  dance."  And 
then  she  says  to  the  little  man,  nice  and 
friendly:  "My  husband  is  so  eager  to  get 
our  melodeon — and  we  really  do  need  it 
badly,  of  course — that  I  have  trouble  with 
him  every  night  to  make  him  stop  the  game 
and  give  us  ladies  the  dance  that  we  do  so 
enjoy."  And  then  she  says  on  to  Charley 
again:  "How  has  the  melodeon  fund  come 
out  to-night,  my  dear?" 

"Very  well  indeed.  Very  well  indeed,  my 
angel,"  Charley  says  back  to  her.  "Eleven 
dollars  and  a  half  have  been  added  to  that 
sacred  deposit;  and  the  contributions  have 
been  so  equally  distributed  that  no  one  of  us 
will  feel  the  trifling  loss.  But  in  interrupting 
our  game,  my  dear,  you  are  quite  right — as 
you  always  are.  Our  guest  is  not  taking 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

part  in  it;  and — as  he  cannot  be  expected 
to  feel,  as  we  do,  a  pleasurable  excitement 
in  the  augmentation  of  our  cherished  little 
hoard — we  owe  it  to  him  to  pass  to  a  form 
of  harmless  diversion  in  which  he  can  have  a 
share."  And  then  he  says  to  the  little  man: 
"I  am  sure,  sir,  that  Mrs.  Charles  will  be 
charmed  to  have  you  for  her  partner  in  the 
opening  dance  of  what  we  playfully  term 
our  ball." 

"The  pleasure  will  be  mine,"  says  the 
little  man — he  was  a  real  friendly  polite  little 
old  feller — and  up  he  gets  and  bows  to  the 
Hen  handsome  and  gives  her  his  arm:  and 
then  in  he  went  with  her  to  the  dance-hall, 
with  Santa  Fe  and  the  rest  of  us  following 
on.  It  give  us  a  first-class  jolt  to  find  all 
the  girls  so  quiet-looking;  and  they  being 
that  way  braced  up  the  whole  crowd  to  be 
like  a  dancing-party  back  East.  To  see  the 
boys  a-bowing  away  to  their  partners,  while 
Jos6 — he  was  the  fiddler,  Jos6  was — was  a 
tuning  up,  you  wouldn't  a-knowed  where 
you  was! 

It  was  a  square  dance  to  start  in  with; 
192 


Shorty   Smith's    Hanging 

with  the  little  man  and  the  Hen,  and  Charley 
and  Kerosene  Kate,  a-facing  each  other;  and 
Denver  Jones  with  Carrots — that  was  the 
only  name  she  ever  had  in  Palomitas — and 
Shorty  Smith  and  Juanita,  at  the  sides. 
Them  three  was  the  girls  the  Hen  had  done 
best  with;  and  she'd  fixed  'em  off  so  well 
they  most  might  have  passed  for  back-East 
school-ma'ams — at  least,  in  a  thickish  crowd. 
Everybody  else  just  stood  around  and  looked 
on — and  that  time,  with  all  the  Forest  Queen 
ways  of  managing  dancing  upset,  it  was  the 
turn  of  the  Palomitas  folks  to  think  they'd 
struck  a  dream!  The  little  man,  of  course, 
didn't  know  he'd  struck  anything  but  what 
went  on  always  —  and  the  way  he  kicked 
around  spirited  on  them  short  little  fat  legs 
of  his  was  just  a  sight  to  see! 

Like  as  not  he  hadn't  got  a  good  sight  of 
Kerosene  Kate  while  she  was  doing  her  killed 
husband  act  before  supper;  or,  maybe,  it 
was  her  being  dressed  up  so  tidy  made  a 
difference.  Anyways,  he  didn't  at  first 
ketch  on  to  her  being  about  the  freshest- 
made  widow  he'd  ever  tumbled  to  in  a 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

dancing-party.  But  he  got  there  all  right 
when  the  square  dance  was  over,  and  Jos6 
flourished  his  fiddle  and  sung  out  for  the 
Senores  and  Sefioritas  to  take  partners  for  a 
valsa,  and  the  Hen  brought  up  Kerosene  to 
foot  it  with  him — telling  him  she  was  the 
organist  who  was  going  to  play  the  melodeon 
when  they  got  it,  and  he'd  find  her  a  nice 
partner  as  she  was  about  the  best  dancer 
they  had. 

When  he  did  size  her  up  he  was  that  took 
aback  he  couldn't  talk  straight.  "But — 
but,"  says  he,  "isn't  this  the  lady  whose 
husband  was — was — "  and  he  stuck  fast. 

"Whose  husband  met  with  an  accident 
this  afternoon,"  says  the  Hen,  helping  him 
out  with  it.  "Yes,  this  is  our  poor  sister 
Rebecca — but  the  accident  happened,  you 
know,  so  many  hours  ago  that  the  pang  of 
it  has  passed;  and — as  Mr.  Green,  the  gen 
tleman  who  shot  her  husband,  was  shot  right 
off  himself — she  feels,  as  we  all  do,  that  the 
incident  is  closed." 

And  then  Kerosene  put  in:  "Great  Scott, 
mister,  you  don't  know  Palomitasl  Widows 
194 


Shorty   Smith's   Hanging 

in  these  parts  don't  set  round  moping  their 
heads  off  all  the  rest  of  their  lives.  They 
wait  long  enough  for  politeness — same  as  I've 
done  —  and  then  they  start  in  on  a  new 
deal." 

The  little  man  likely  was  too  mixed  up  to 
notice  Kerosene  didn't  talk  pretty,  like  Santa 
Fe"  and  the  Hen  knowed  how  to ;  and  he  was 
so  all-round  jolted  that  before  he  knew  it — 
Kerosene  getting  a-hold  of  his  hand  with  one 
of  hers,  and  putting  the  other  on  his  shoulder 
— he  had  his  arm  round  her  waist  kind  of  by 
instinct  and  was  footing  it  away  with  her  the 
best  he  knowed  how.  But  while  he  was  a- 
circling  about  with  her  he  was  the  dreamiest 
looking  one  you  ever  seen.  Kerosene  said 
afterwards  she  heard  him  saying  to  himself 
over  and  over:  "This  can't  be  real!  This 
can't  be  real!" 

What  happened  along  right  away  after 
was  real  enough  for  him — at  least,  he  thought 
it  was,  and  that  come  to  the  same  thing.  He 
was  so  dizzied  up  when  Kerosene  stopped 
dancing  him — she  was  doing  the  most  of  it, 
she  said,  he  keeping  his  little  fat  legs  going 


Santa    Fe's  Partner 

'cause  she  swung  him  round  and  he  had  to — 
all  he  wanted  was  to  be  let  to  set  down.  So 
Kerosene  set  him — and  then  the  next  acfr 
was  put  through. 

Bill  Hart  and  Shorty  Smith  come  up  to 
Kerosene  right  together,  and  both  of  'em 
asked  her  polite  if  she'd  dance.  She  said 
polite  she'd  be  happy  to;  but  she  said,  seeing 
both  gentlemen  had  spoke  at  once  for  her, 
they  must  fix  it  between  'em  which  one  had 
the  call.  All  the  same,  she  put  her  hand  on 
Hart's  arm,  like  as  if  he  was  the  one  she 
wanted — and  of  course  that  pleased  Hart 
and  made  Shorty  mad.  Then  the  two  of  'em 
begun  talking  to  each  other,  Hart  speaking 
sarcastic  and  Shorty  real  ugly,  and  so  things 
went  on  getting  hotter  and  hotter — till  Kero 
sene,  doing  it  like  she  meant  to  break  up  the 
rumpus,  shoved  Hart's  arm  round  her  and 
started  to  swing  away.  Just  as  they  got 
agoing,  Shorty  out  with  his  gun  and  loosed 
off  at  Hart  with  it — and  down  Hart  went 
in  a  heap  on  the  floor. 

The  whole  place,  of  course,  right  away 
broke  into  yells  and  cusses,  and  everybody 
196 


AND    DOWN    HART    WENT    IN    A    HEAP    ON    THE    FLOOR  " 


Shorty   Smith's   Hanging 

come  a-crowding  into  a  heap — some  of  the 
boys  picking  up  Hart  and  carrying  him,  kick 
ing  feeble  real  natural,  out  into  the  kitchen; 
and  some  more  grabbing  a-hold  of  Shorty  and 
taking  away  his  gun.  Kerosene  let  off  howls 
fit  to  blow  the  roof  off — only  quieting  down 
long  enough  to  say  she'd  just  agreed  to  take 
Hart  for  her  second,  and  it  was  hard  luck  to 
be  made  a  widow  of  twice  in  one  day.  Then 
she  howled  more.  Really,  things  did  go 
with  a  hum! 

Santa  Fe*  and  the  rest  come  a-trooping 
back  from  the  kitchen  —  leaving  the  door 
just  a  crack  open,  so  Hart  could  peep  through 
and  see  the  fun — and  Santa  Fe*  jumped  up 
on  a  bench  and  sung  out  "Order!"  as  loud 
as  he  could  yell.  Knowing  what  was  ex 
pected  of  'em,  the  boys  quieted  down  sud 
den;  and  the  Hen  got  a-hold  of  Kerosene 
and  snuggled  her  up  to  her,  and  told  her  to 
weep  on  her  fond  breast — and  Kerosene 
started  in  weeping  on  the  Hen's  fond  breast 
all  right,  and  left  off  her  howls.  The  room 
was  that  quiet  you  could  a-heard  a  cat  purr. 

"My  brethren,"  says  Charley,  talking  sad- 


Santa    Fg's    Partner 

sounding  and  digging  away  at  his  eyes  with 
his  pocket-handkerchief,  "Brother  Hart  has 
left  us" — Hart  being  in  the  kitchen  that  was 
dead  true — "and  for  the  third  time  to-day 
our  Sunshine  Club  has  suffered  a  fatal  loss. 
Still  more  lamentable  is  the  case  of  our 
doubly  stricken  sister  Rebecca — only  just 
recovered,  by  time's  healing  touch,  from  the 
despair  of  her  tragic  widowhood,  and  at  the 
threshold  of  a  new  glad  life  of  wedded  hap 
piness — who  again  is  desolately  bereaved. " 
(Kerosene  give  a  dreadful  groan — seeming  to 
feel  something  was  expected  of  her — and 
then  jammed  back  to  the  Hen's  fond  breast 
again  and  kept  on  a-weeping  like  a  pump.) 
"Our  hearts  are  with  Sister  Rebecca  in  her 
woe,"  says  Charley.  "She  has  all  our  sym 
pathy,  and  the  full  help  of  our  sustaining 
love." 

"If  I  know  anything  about  the  sense  of 
this  meeting,"  Hill  chipped  in,  "it's  going  to 
do  a  damn  sight  more'n  sling  around  sym 
pathy."  (Hill  had  a  way  of  speaking  care 
less,  but  he  didn't  mean  no  harm  by  it.) 
"That  shooting  wasn't  a  square  one,"  says 
198 


Shorty  Smith's   Hanging 

Hill;  "and  it's  likely  there'll  be  another 
member  missing  from  the  Sunshine  Club  for 
doing  it.  There's  telegraph-poles,"  says  Hill, 
"right  across  the  way!" 

"  Brother  Hill  is  right,"  Santa  F6  went  on, 
"though  I  am  pained  that  his  unhappy  dis 
position  to  profanity  remains  uncurbed. 
The  shot  that  has  laid  low  Brother  Hart  was 
a  foul  one.  Justice,  my  friends,  exemplary 
justice,  must  be  meted  out  to  the  one  who 
laid  and  lowered  him;  and  I  reckon  the 
quicker  we  get  Brother  Smith  over  to  the 
deepo,  and  up  on  the  usual  telegraph-pole — 
as  Brother  Hill  has  suggested — the  better 
it  '11  be  for  the  moral  record  of  our  town. 
All  in  favor  of  such  action  will  please  signify 
it  by  saying  '  Ay.' "  And  the  whole  crowd — 
except  Shorty,  who  voted  against  it — yelled 
out  "Ay"  so  loud  it  shook  all  the  bottles  in 
the  bar. 

"The  ayes  have  it,"  says  Santa  F<§,  "and 
we  will  proceed.  Brother  Wood,  as  chair 
man  of  the  Friendly  Aid  Society,  I  beg  that 
you  will  go  on  ahead  to  the  deepo  and  get 
ready  the  rope  that  on  these  occasions  you 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

so  obligingly  lend  us  from  the  Company's 
stores.  Brother  Jones  and  Brother  Hill, 
you  will  kindly  bring  along  the  prisoner. 
The  remaining  Friendly  Aiders  present  will 
have  the  goodness,  at  the  appropriate  mo 
ment,  to  render  the  assistance  that  they 
usually  supply.'*  And  off  Charley  went, 
right  after  Wood,  with  the  rest  of  us  follow 
ing  on:  Hill  and  Denver  yanking  along 
Shorty  and  flourishing  their  guns  savage; 
the  girls  in  a  pack  around  the  Hen  holding 
on  to  Kerosene;  and  Kerosene  doing  her 
share  of  what  was  wanted  by  letting  out 
yells. 

The  little  man  was  left  to  himself  a-pur- 
pose;  and  he  was  so  shook  up,  while  he  was 
coming  along  with  the  crowd  over  to  the 
deepo,  he  couldn't  say  a  word.  But  he 
managed  to  get  Ms  stamps  going,  though 
they  didn't  work  well,  when  we  was  all  on 
the  platform — waiting  while  Wood  rigged 
up  the  rope  on  the  telegraph-pole — and  he 
asked  Santa  F6,  speaking  husky,  what  the 
boys  meant  to  do. 

"Justice I"  says  Charley,  talking  as  digni- 

200 


Shorty   Smith's    Hanging 

fied  as  a  just-swore-in  sheriff.  "As  I  ex 
plained  to  you  this  morning,  sir,  nobody  in 
Palomitas  ever  stands  in  the  way  of  a  fair 
fight — like  the  one  you  happened  to  come 
in  on  at  the  finish  a  few  hours  ago — any  more 
than  good  citizens,  elsewhere  and  under  dif 
ferent  conditions,  interfere  with  the  processes 
of  the  courts.  But  when  the  fight  is  not  fair, 
as  in  the  present  instance — the  gravamen  of 
the  charge  against  Brother  Smith  being  that 
he  loosed  off  into  Brother  Hart's  back  when 
the  latter  did  not  know  it  was  coming  and 
hadn't  his  gun  out — then  the  moral  sense  of 
our  community  crystallizes  promptly  into 
the  punitive  action  that  the  case  demands: 
as  you  will  see  for  yourself,  inside  of  the  next 
ten  minutes,  when  you  see  Brother  Smith 
run  up  on  that  second  telegraph-pole  to  the 
left  and  kicking  his  legs  in  the  air  until  he 
kicks  himself  into  Kingdom  Come!" 

"Good  Heavens!"  says  the  little  man. 
"  You're  not  going  to — to  hang  him?" 

"We  just  rather  are!"  says  Santa  Fe*. 
And  then  he  says,  talking  kind  of  cutting: 
"May  I  ask,  sir,  what  you  do  in  England  with 

201 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

murderers?  Do  you  pay  'em  salaries,  and 
ask  'em  out  to  tea-parties,  and  hire  somebody 
to  see  they  have  all  the  drinks  they  want?" 

The  little  man  begun  telling  how  English 
folks  manage  such  matters,  and  was  real 
excited.  But  nobody  but  the  Hen  paid  no 
attention  to  him.  The  Hen — she  and  Kero 
sene  was  standing  close  aside  of  him — turned 
round  to  him  and  said  pleasant  she  always 
enjoyed  most  the  hangings  they  had  by 
moonlight  (the  moon  was  at  the  full,  and 
shining  beautiful)  because  the  moonlight, 
she  said,  cast  over  them  such  a  glamour  of 
romance.  And  her  looking  at  moonlight 
hangings  that  way  seemed  to  give  him  such 
a  jolt  he  stopped  talking  and  give  a  kind  of 
a  gasp.  There  wasn't  no  more  time  for 
talking,  anyway — for  just  then  the  train 
backed  in  to  the  platform  and  the  conductor 
sung  out  the  Friendly  Aiders  had  got  to  get 
a  move  on  'em,  if  them  going  by  it  was  to 
see  the  doings,  and  put  Shorty  through. 

Being  moonlight,  and  the  shadows  thick, 
helped  considerable — keeping  from  showing 
how  the  boys  had  fixed  Shorty  up  so  his 

202 


Shorty   Smith's   Hanging 

hanging  wouldn't  come  hard:  with  a  lariat 
run  round  under  his  arms,  his  shirt  over  it, 
and  a  loop  just  inside  his  collar  where  they 
could  hitch  the  rope  fast.  When  they  did 
hitch  to  it,  things  looked  just  as  natural  as 
you  please. 

Shorty  got  right  into  the  hanging  spirit — 
he  always  was  a  comical  little  cuss,  Shorty 
was — pleading  pitiful  with  the  boys  to  let 
up  on  him;  and,  when  they  wouldn't,  get 
ting  a  halt  on  'em — same  as  he'd  seen  done 
at  real  hangings — by  beginning  to  send  mes 
sages  to  all  the  folks  he  ever  had.  Santa  F6 
let  him  go  on  till  he'd  got  to  his  uncles  and 
cousins — and  then  he  said  he  guessed  the 
rest  of  the  family  could  make  out  to  do  with 
second-hand  messages  from  them  that  had 
them;  and  as  it  was  past  train-time,  and  the 
distinguished  stranger  in  their  midst — who 
was  going  on  it — would  enjoy  seeing  the  show 
through,  the  hanging  had  got  to  be  shoved 
right  along.  When  Charley 'd  give  his  order, 
Carver  come  up — he  was  the  Pullman  con 
ductor,  Carver  was,  and  he  had  his  points 
how  to  manage — and  steered  the  little  man 
203 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

onto  the  back  platform  of  the  Pullman, 
where  he  could  see  well;  and  so  had  things 
all  ready  for  the  train  to  pull  out  as  soon  as 
Shorty  was  swung  off. 

Wood,  who'd  had  experience,  had  the  rope 
rigged  up  in  good  shape  over  the  cross-bar 
of  the  telegraph-pole ;  and  Hill  and  Denver 
fetched  old  Shorty  along— with  Shorty  letting 
on  he  was  scared  stiff,  and  yowling  like  he'd 
been  ashamed  to  if  it  hadn't  been  a  bunco 
game  he  was  playing — and  hitched  him  to 
it,  with  the  boys  standing  close  round  in  a 
clump  so  they  hid  the  way  it  was  done. 

The  little  man  was  so  worked  up  by  that 
time — it  likely  being  he  hadn't  seen  much  of 
hangings— he  was  just  a-hopping:  with  his 
plug  hat  off,  and  sousing  the  sweat  off  his 
face  with  his  pocket-handkerchief,  and  sing 
ing  out  what  was  going  on  wasn't  any  better 
than  murder,  and  begging  all  hands  not  to 
do  what  he  said  was  such  a  dreadful  deed. 

But  nobody  paid  no  attention  to  him 
(except  Carver,  he  was  a  friendly  feller,  Car 
ver  was,  kept  a  lookout  he  didn't  tumble 
himself  off  the  platform)  and  when  Denver 
204 


Shorty   Smith's    Hanging 

sung  out  things  was  ready,  and  Santa  F£ 
sung  out  back  for  the  Friendly  Aiders  to  haul 
away,  the  boys  all  grabbed  onto  the  rope 
together — and  up  Shorty  went  a-kicking  into 
the  air. 

Shorty  really  did  do  his  act  wonderful: 
kicking  every  which  way  at  first,  and  then 
only  sort  of  squirming,  and  then  quieting 
down  gradual  till  he  just  hung  limp — with 
the  kick  all  kicked  out  of  him — turning 
round  and  round  slow! 

When  he'd  quieted,  the  train  conductor 
swung  his  lantern  to  start  her,  and  off  she 
went — the  little  man  standing  there  on  the 
back  platform  of  the  Pullman,  a-grabbing 
at  the  railing  like  he  was  dizzy,  looking  back 
with  all  his  eyes.  And  old  Shorty  up  on  the 
telegraph-pole,  making  a  black  splotch  twist 
ing  about  in  the  moonlight,  was  the  last  bit 
of  Palomitas  he  seen! 

Next  day  but  one  Carver  come  down  again 

on  his  regular  run,  and  he  told  the  boys  the 

little  man  kept  a-hanging  onto  the  platform 

railing  and  a-looking  back  hard  till  the  train 

205 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

got  clean  round  the  curve.  Then  he  give  a 
kind  of  a  coughing  groan,  Carver  said,  and 
come  inside  the  Pullman — there  wasn't  no 
other  passengers  that  night  in  the  Pullman — 
and  plumped  himself  down  on  a  seat  any 
ways,  a-looking  as  white  as  a  clean  paper 
collar ;  and  for  a  while  he  just  set  there,  like 
he  had  a  pain. 

At  last  he  roused  up  and  reached  for  his 
grip  and  got  his  flask  out  and  had  a  good 
one;  and  when  he'd  had  it  he  says  to  Carver, 
as  savage  as  if  Carver — who  hadn't  had  no 
hand  in  the  doings — was  the  whole  business : 
"  Sir,  this  America  of  yours  is  a  continent  of 
chaos  —  and  you  Americans  are  no  better 
than  so  many  wild  beasts!"  Then  he  had 
another;  and  after  that  he  went  on,  like  he 
was  talking  to  himself:  "All  I  ask  is  to  get 
out  of  this  nightmare  of  a  country  in  -a  hurry 
— and  safe  back  to  my  own  home  in  the 
Avenue  Road!"  And  from  then  on,  Carver 
said,  till  it  was  bedtime — except  now  and 
then  he  took  another — he  just  set  still  and 
glared. 

Carver  said  it  wasn't  any  funeral  of  his, 
206 


Shorty   Smith's    Hanging 

and  so  he  didn't  see  no  need  to  argue  with 
him.  And  he  allowed,  he  said,  maybe  he 
had  some  call  to  feel  the  way  he  did  about 
America,  and  to  want  to  get  quick  out  of  it, 
after  being  up  against  Palomitas  for  what 
he  guessed  you  might  say  was  a  full  dav» 
14 


VII 

THE  PURIFICATION  OF   PALOMITAS 

!N  the  long  run,  same  as  I  said 
to  start  with,  all  tough  towns 
gets  to  where  it's  needed  to 
have  a  clean-up.  Shooting- 
| scrapes  is  a  habit  that  grows; 
and  after  a  while  decent  folks  begins  to  be 
sort  of  sick  of  such  doings — and  of  having 
things  all  upside-downey  generally — and  then 
something  a  little  extry  happens,  bringing 
matters  to  a  head,  and  the  white  men  take 
hold  and  the  toughs  is  fired.  Just  to  draw 
a  card  anywheres  from  the  pack — there  was 
Durango.  What  made  a  clean  town  of 
Durango  was  that  woman  getting  killed  in 
bed  in  her  tent — the  boys  being  rumpussing 
around,  same  as  usual,  and  a  shot  just  hap 
pening  her  way  and  taking  her.  It  was  felt 
208 


The   Purification  of   Palomitas 

that  outsiders — and  'specially  ladies — oughtn '  t 
to  get  no  such  treatment ;  and  so  they  had  a 
spring  house-cleaning — after  what  I  reckon 
was  the  worst  winter  a  town  ever  went 
through  —  and  Durango  was  sobered  right 
down. 

Palomitas  went  along  the  same  trail,  and 
took  the  same  pass  over  the  divide.  All 
through  that  year,  while  the  end  of  the  track 
hung  there,  things  kept  getting  more  and 
more  uncomfortabler.  When  construction 
started  up  again — the  little  Englishman,  in 
spite  of  the  dose  we  give  him,  reported  favor 
able  on  construction  and  the  English  stock 
holders  put  up  the  stake  they  was  asked  to — 
things  got  to  be  worse  still.  Right  away,  as 
soon  as  work  begun,  the  place  was  jammed 
full  of  Greasers  getting  paid  off  every  Satur 
day  night,  and  all  day  Sunday  being  crazy 
drunk  and  knifing  each  other,  and  in  between 
scrappings  having  their  pay  sucked  out  of 
'em  at  the  banks  and  dance-halls — and  most 
of  the  boys  going  along  about  the  same  rate, 
except  they  used  guns  instead  of  knives  to 
settle  matters — so  the  town  really  was  just 
209 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

about  what  you  might  call  a  quarter-section 
of  hell's  front  yard. 

Being  that  way,  it  come  to  be  seen  there  'd 
got  to  be  a  clean-up ;  and  what  was  wanted 
for  a  starter  was  give  by  Santa  Fe  Charley 
shooting  Bill  Hart.  There  was  no  real  use 
for  the  shooting.  The  two  of  'em  just  got 
to  jawing  in  Hart's  store  about  which  was 
the  best  of  two  brands  of  plug  tobacco — 
Hart  being  behind  the  counter,  and  Charley, 
who  had  a  bad  jag  on,  setting  out  in  the 
middle  of  the  store  on  a  nail-kag — and  the 
first  thing  anybody  knowed,  Charley 'd  let 
go  with  his  derringer  through  his  pants- 
pocket  and  Hart  was  done  for.  If  Santa  F£ 
hadn't  been  on  one  of  his  tears  at  the  time,  the 
thing  wouldn't  a-happened — him  and  Hart 
always  having  been  friendly,  and  'specially 
so  after  the  trouble  they'd  had  together  over 
Hart's  aunt.  But  when  it  did  happen — 
being  so  sort  of  needless,  and  Hart  popular — 
most  of  us  made  our  minds  up  something  had 
got  to  be  done. 

Joe  Cherry  headed  the  reform  movement. 

2IO 


The   Purification  of   Palomitas 

He  had  a  bunch  of  sheep  up  in  the  Sangre  de 
Cristo  mountains,  Cherry  had,  but  was  in 
town  frequent  and  always  bunked  at  Hart's 
store — him  and  Hart  having  knowed  each 
other  back  East  and  being  great  friends. 
That  made  him  take  a  'special  interest  in  the 
matter;  and  when  he  come  a-riding  in  about 
an  hour  after  things  was  over — likely  he'd  a- 
fixed  Santa  Fe*  himself  if  he'd  been  there 
when  it  happened — he  got  right  up  on  his  ear. 
He  said  he  meant  to  square  accounts  for 
Bill's  shooting,  and  he  reckoned  telegraph- 
poling  Charley  was  about  what  was  needed 
to  square  'em;  and  he  said  it  was  a  good 
time,  with  that  for  a  starter,  for  rounding-up 
and  firing  all  the  toughs  there  was  in  town. 
The  rest  of  us  allowed  Cherry's  notions  was 
reasonable,  and  it  was  seen  there 'd  better  be 
no  fooling  over  'em ;  and  so  we  went  straight 
on  and  had  a  meeting,  with  Cherry  chairman, 
and  fixed  up  a  Committee — and  the  Com 
mittee  begun  business  by  corralling  Santa  Fe*, 
and  then  set  to  work  and  made  out  a  list  of 
them  that  was  to  be  fired. 

There  was  about  a  dozen  of  'em  in  the  list; 

211 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

and  they  was  told — the  notice  being  posted 
at  the  deepo— they  had  twenty-four  hours  to 
get  out  in;  and  it  was  added  that  them  that 
wasn't  out  in  twenty-four  hours  would  find 
'emselves  landed  on  the  dumps  for  keeps.  A 
few  of  'em  kicked  a  little — saying  it  was  a  free 
country,  and  they  guessed  they'd  a  right  to 
be  where  they'd  a  mind  to.  But  when  the 
Committee  said  back  it  just  was  a  free  coun 
try,  and  one  of  the  freest  things  in  it  was 
telegraph-poles — as  Santa  Fe  Charley  was 
going  to  find  out  for  certain,  and  as  them  that 
was  ordered  to  get  up  and  get  and  didn't 
would  find  out  along  with  him — even  the 
kickingest  of  'em  seen  they'd  better  just  shut 
their  heads  and  andy  along. 

It  wasn't  till  the  Committee  come  to  tackle 
the  Sage-Brush  Hen  there  was  any  trouble — 
and  then  they  found  their  drills  was  against 
quartz!  Two  or  three  of  Charley's  worst 
shootings  was  charged  to  the  Hen,  she  being 
'special  friends  with  him ;  and  just  because  she 
was  such  a  good-natured  obliging  sort  of  a 
woman,  always  wanting  to  please  everybody, 
she  was  at  the  roots  of  half  the  fights  that 

212 


The    Purification   of    Palomitas 

started  in — so  there  'd  come  to  be  what  was 
called  the  Hen's  Lot  out  in  the  cemetery  on 
the  mesa,  as  I've  mentioned  before.  The 
Committee  put  her  in  their  list  because  they 
knowed  for  a  fact  there  was  bound  to  be 
ructions  in  Palomitas  as  long  as  she  stayed 
there;  and  so  they  found  'emselves  in  a  deep- 
ish  hole  when  she  said  plump  Palomitas  suited 
her,  and  she  didn't  mean  to  be  fired.  The 
Hen  knowed  as  well  as  they  did  she  had  a 
cinch  on  'em.  If  they  didn't  like  her  staying, 
she  said,  they  could  yank  her  up  to  the  next 
telegraph-pole  to  Charley's — and  then  she 
asked  'em,  kind  of  cool  and  cutting,  if  they 
didn't  think  hanging  a  lady  would  give  a  nice 
name  to  the  town! 

The  Committee  was  in  session  in  the  wait 
ing-room  at  the  deepo  while  the  Hen  was 
doing  her  talking,  and  Santa  Fe — with  hand 
cuffs  on,  and  tied  to  the  express  messenger's 
safe- — was  in  the  express  office,  with  the  door 
open  between.  Everybody  seen  the  Hen 
was  right,  and  hanging  her  would  be  un- 
gentlemanly,  and  nobody  seemed  to  know 
what  they'd  better  do.  While  they  was  all 
213 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

setting  still  and  thinking,  Santa  Fe  spoke  up 
from  the  express  office — saying  he  had  the 
reputation  of  the  town  at  heart  as  much  as 
anybody,  and  to  make  a  real  clean-up  the 
Hen  ought  to  quit  along  with  the  others, 
and  if  they'd  let  him  have  five  minutes 
private  talk  with  her  he'd  fix  things  so  she'd 

go. 

The  Committee  didn't  much  believe  Santa 
Fe*  could  deliver  the  goods;  but  they  seen  it 
would  be  a  way  out  for  'em  if  he  did — and  so 
they  agreed  him  and  the  Hen  should  have 
their  talk.  To  make  it  private,  he  was  took 
out  and  hitched  fast  to  a  freight-car  laying  on 
the  siding  back  of  the  deepo — the  Committee 
standing  around  in  easy  shooting  distance, 
but  far  enough  off  not  to  hear  nothing,  with 
their  Winchesters  handy  in  case  the  Hen  took 
it  into  her  head  to  cut  the  rope  and  give  him 
a  chance  to  get  away.  She  didn't — and  she 
and  Santa  Fe  talked  to  each  other  mighty 
serious  for  a  while;  and  then  they  begun  to 
snicker  a  little;  and  they  ended  up  in  a 
rousing  laugh. 

Charley  sung  out  they'd  finished,  and  the 
214 


The   Purification    of   Palomitas 

Committee  closed  in  and  unhitched  him, 
and  took  him  back  to  the  express  office  and 
hitched  him  to  the  safe  again — where  he  was 
to  stay  till  hanging-time,  with  members  of 
the  Committee  taking  turns  keeping  him 
quiet  with  their  guns.  He  said  he  was  much 
obliged  to  'em,  and  the  Hen  had  agreed  to 
quit — and  everybody  was  pleased  all  round. 

"I  don't  like  not  being  here  when  Charley 
gets  his  medicine,"  the  Hen  said,  "him  and 
me  being  such  good  friends;  but  he  says  it 
would  only  worry  him  having  me  in  the 
audience,  and  so  I've  promised  him  I'll  light 
out" — and  she  kept  her  word,  and  got  away 
for  Denver  by  that  night's  train.  Her  going 
took  a  real  load  off  the  Committee's  mind. 

Some  of  the  other  fired  ones  went  off  on  the 
same  train.  The  rest  took  Hill's  coach  across 
to  Santa  F6 — and  made  no  trouble,  Hill  said, 
except  they  held  the  coach  for  two  hours  at 
Pojuaque  while  all  hands  got  drunk  at  old 
man  Bouquet's.  Hill  said  all  the  rest  of  the 
way  they  was  yelling,  and  firing  off  their  guns, 
and  raising  hell  generally — that  was  the  way 
Hill  put  it — but  they  didn't  do  no  real  harm. 
215 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

It  was  Joe  Cherry's  notion  that  Santa  F6 
should  be  took  along  to  Hart's  funeral,  and 
not  hung  till  everybody  got  back  to  town 
again.  Joe  was  a  serious-minded  man,  and 
he  said  the  moral  effect  of  running  things 
that  way  would  pan  out  a  lot  richer  than  if 
they  just  had  a  plain  hanging  before  the 
funeral  got  under  way. 

Santa  Fe*  kicked  at  that,  at  first;  and  a 
good  many  of  the  boys  felt  he  had  a  right 
to.  Santa  Fe*  said  it  was  all  in  the  game  to 
run  him  up  to  the  telegraph-pole  in  front  of 
the  deepo,  the  same  as  other  folks;  but  no 
committee  had  no  right,  he  said,  to  make  a 
circus  of  him  by  packing  him  all  round  the 
place  after  poor  old  Bill — who  always  had 
been  plain  in  his  tastes,  and  would  have  been 
the  last  man  in  Palomitas  to  want  that  kind 
of  a  fuss  made  over  him — and  he  didn't  mean 
to  take  a  hand  in  no  such  fool  carryings-on. 
He  didn't  want  anybody  to  think  he  was 
squirming,  he  said,  for  he  wasn't.  Some  men 
got  up  against  telegraph-poles,  and  others 
got  up  against  guns  or  pneumonia  or  what 
ever  happened  to  come  along — and  it  was  all 
216 


The    Purification   of    Palomitas 

in  the  day's  work.  But  when  they  did  get 
up  against  it — whatever  it  turned  out  to  be 
— that  was  the  one  time  in  their  lives  when  it 
wasn't  fair  to  worry  'em  more'n  was  needed. 
Nobody  but  chumps,  he  said,  would  want  to 
hurt  his  feelings  by  making  him  do  trick-mule 
acts  at  poor  old  Bill's  funeral — 'specially  as 
him  and  Bill  always  had  been  friendly,  and 
nobody  was  sorrier  than  he  was  about  the 
accident  that  had  occurred. 

Santa  Fe  was  a  first-rate  talker,  and  every 
body  but  Cherry  allowed  what  he  was  letting 
out  had  a  good  deal  of  sense  in  it.  He  ended 
up  by  saying  that  if  they  did  make  any  such 
fool  show  of  him  he'd  like  'em  to  put  it 
through  quick  and  get  him  back  to  the  deepo 
and  telegraph  him  off  to  Kingdom  Come  in  a 
hurry — as  he'd  be  glad  at  any  price  to  be  shut 
of  a  crowd  that  would  play  it  on  anybody 
that  low  down! 

Cherry  stuck  it  out,  though,  to  have  things 
his  way.  Palomitas  was  going  in  for  puri 
fication,  Cherry  said,  and  the  moral  effect  of 
having  Santa  F6  along  at  Bill's  funeral  was 
part  of  the  purifying.  The  very  fact  that 

217 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

Santa  Fe"  was  kicking  so  hard  against  it,  he 
said,  showed  it  was  a  good  thing.  There 
was  sense  in  that,  too ;  and  so  the  upshot  of  it 
was  the  boys  come  round  to  Cherry's  plan. 
The  only  serious  thing  against  it  was  it 
meant  waiting  over  another  day,  till  the 
funeral  outfit  got  down  from  Denver — all 
hands  having  cliipped  in  to  give  Hart  a  good 
send-off,  and  telegraphed  his  size  to  a  first- 
class  Denver  undertaker,  with  orders  to  do 
him  up  in  style.  Making  him  wait  around 
so  long,  sort  of  idle,  was  what  Santa  Fe 
kicked  hardest  against  at  first.  But  after 
his  talk  with  the  Hen,  as  was  remembered 
afterwards,  he  didn't  do  any  more  kicking; 
and  some  of  the  boys  noticed  he  was  a  little 
nervous,  and  kept  asking,  off  and  on,  if  they 
still  meant  to  run  the  show  that  way. 

The  boys  did  what  they  could  to  make  the 
time  go  for  him — setting  around  sociable  in 
the  express  office  telling  stories  about  other 
hangings  they'd  happened  to  get  up  against, 
and  toying  all  they  knowed  how  to  amuse 
him,  and  giving  him  more  seegars  and  drinks 
than  he  really  cared  to  have.  But  as  he 
218 


The   Purification   of    Palomjtas 

was  kept  hitched  to  both  handles  of  the  safe 
right  enough,  and  handcuffed,  and  as  the  two 
members  of  the  Committee  watching  him — 
while  they  was  as  pleasant  with  him  as  any 
body — never  had  their  hands  far  off  their 
guns,  it's  likely  there'd  been  other  times  when 
he'd  enjoyed  himself  more. 

Things  was  spirited  at  the  deepo  when  the 
Denver  train  got  in.  All  there  was  of  Palomi- 
tas  was  on  deck,  and  Becker'd  come  over  from 
Santa  Cruz  de  la  Canada,  and  old  man 
Bouquet  from  Pojuaque,  and  Sam  and 
Marcus  Elbogen  had  driven  across  on  their 
buck-board  from  San  Juan — and  Mexicans 
had  come  in  from  all  around  in  droves. 

The  Elbogen  brothers  had  been  asked  over 
for  the  funeral  'special — because  they  both 
had  good  voices,  and  the  Committee  thought 
like  enough,  being  Germans,  they'd  know 
some  hymns.  It  turned  out  they  didn't — 
but  they  blew  off  "  The  Watch  on  the  Rhine  " 
in  good  shape,  when  singing  time  come  out  at 
the  cemetery ;  and  as  it  was  a  serious-sound 
ing  tune  it  done  just  as  well.  Singing  it  made 
219 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

trouble,  though:  because  Hart's  nephew — 
who  knowed  German  and  was  a  pill — hadn't 
no  more  sense 'n  to  tell  old  man  Bouquet, 
coming  back  to  town,  what  the  words  meant ; 
and  that  started  old  man  Bouquet  off  so — 
the  war  not  being  long  over,  and  his  side 
downed — that  it  took  two  of  us,  holding  him 
by  his  arms  and  legs,  to  keep  him  from  try 
ing  to  fight  both  the  Elbogens  at  once. 
Being  good-natured  young  fellows,  the  Elbo 
gens  didn't  take  offence,  but  behaved  like 
perfect  gentlemen — telling  old  man  Bouquet 
they  didn't  mean  to  hurt  his  feelings,  and 
was  sorry  if  they  had — and  it  ended  up  well 
by  their  having  drinks  together  at  the  Forest 
Queen.  All  that,  though,  has  no  real  bearing 
on  the  story.  It  happened  along  later  in  the 
day. 

Before  the  train  got  in,  to  save  time,  a  rope 
had  been  rigged  for  Santa  Fe*  over  the  cross 
bar  of  the  usual  telegraph-pole— and  Cherry, 
who  knowed  how  to  manage  better'n  most, 
had  seen  to  it  the  rope  was  well  soaped  so  as 
to  run  smooth.  Cherry  said  he'd  knowed 
things  go  real  annoying,  sometimes,  when  the 

22Q 


The   Purification   of    Palomitas 

soap  had  been  forgot.  Santa  Fe  looked  well 
He'd  had  a  good  brush  up — and  he  needed  it, 
after  being  tied  fast  to  the  safe  for  three  days 
and  sleeping  in  a  blanket  on  the  express- 
office  floor — and  he'd  put  on  a  clean  shirt, 
and  blacked  his  boots,  and  had  a  shave.  He 
always  was  a  tidy  sort  of  a  man. 

When  the  train  pulled  in,  being  on  time  for 
a  wonder,  some  fellows  from  Chamita  and 
the  Embudo — come  to  see  the  doings — got 
out  from  the  day-coach  and  shook  hands ;  and 
the  Denver  undertaker  got  out  from  the  ex 
press-car  and  helped  the  messenger  unload 
the  fixings  he'd  brought  for  poor  old  Bill. 
Everybody  stood  around  quiet  like,  and  as 
serious  as  you  please.  You  might  have 
thought  it  was  a  Sunday  morning  back  in  the 
States. 

Except  now  and  then  a  drummer — bound 
for  Santa  Fe  on  Hill's  coach — -nobody  much 
ever  come  to  Palomitas  on  the  Pullman; 
and  so  there  was  something  of  a  stir-up  when 
the  Pullman  conductor  helped  a  lady  out  of 
the  car — landing  her  close  to  where  Charley 
in  his  clean  shirt  and  handcuffs  on  was  stand- 

221 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

ing  between  two  members  of  the  Committee 
holding  guns.  She  was  a  fine-shaped  woman, 
but  looked  oldish — as  well  as  you  could  see  for 
the  veil  she  had  on — having  a  sad  pale  face 
a  good  deal  wrinlded  and  a  bunch  of  gray  hair. 
She  was  dressed  in  measly  old  black  clothes, 
and  had  an  old  black  shawl  on,  and  looked 
poor. 

Getting  out  into  that  crowd  o£  men  seemed 
to  rattle  her,  and  she  didn't  for  a  minute  look 
at  nobody.  It  wasn't  till  she  a 'most  butted 
into  Charley  she  seen  him — and  when  she  did 
see  him  she  let  off  a  yell  loud  enough  to  give 
points  to  a  locomotive!  And  then  she  sort 
of  sobbed  out:  "My  husband!" — and  got 
her  arms  around  Santa  F6's  neck  and  begun 
to  cry. 

"My  God!  It's  my  wife!"  said  Charley. 
And  if  the  members  of  the  Committee  hadn't 
caught  the  two  of  'em  quick  they'd  likely 
tumbled  down. 

Santa  F6  was  the  first  to  get  his  wind  back. 
"  My  poor  darling  I' '  he  said .  "  To  think  that 
you  should  have  come  to  me  at  last — and  in 
this  awful  hour!" 

222 


The    Purification  of    Palomitas 

"What  does  it  mean,  Charley?  Tell  me, 
what  does  it  mean?"  she  moaned. 

Santa  Fe  snuggled  her  up  to  him — as  well 
as  he  could  with  his  hands  handcuffed — and 
said  back  to  her:  "It  means,  Mary,  that  in 
less  than  two  hours'  time  I  am  to  be  hung! 
In  the  heat  of  passion  I  have  killed  a  man. 
It  was  more  than  half  an  accident,  as  every 
body  here  knows" — and  he  looked  over  her 
head  at  the  boys  as  they  all  jammed  in  to 
listen — -"but  that  don't  matter,  so  far  as  the 
dreadful  result  is  concerned.  I  loved  the 
man  I  shot  like  my  own  brother,  and  shoot 
ing  him  in  that  chance  way  has  about  broken 
my  heart.  But  that  don't  count  either.  Jus 
tice  must  be  done,  my  darling.  Stern  justice 
must  be  done.  You  have  come  just  in  time  to 
see  your  husband  die!"  He  was  quiet  for  a 
m;nute,  with  the  woman  all  in  a  shake  against 
him — and  a  kind  of  a  snuffling  went  through 
the  crowd.  Then  he  said,  sort  of  choky: 
11  Tell  me,  Mary,  how  are  our  dear  little  girls  ?" 

She  was  too  broke  up  to  answer  him.  She 
just  kept  on  hugging  him,  and  crying  as  hard 
as  she  could  cry. 

is  223 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Santa  Fe\  "it  is  better 
that  this  painful  scene  should  end.  Take  my 
poor  wife  from  me,  and  let  me  pay  the  just  pen 
alty  of  my  accidental  crime.  Take  her  away, 
please — and  hang  me  as  quick  as  you  can!" 

"They  sha'n't  hang  you,  Charley!  They 
shaVt!  They  sha'n't!"  she  sung  out — and 
she  jerked  away  from  him  and  got  in  front 
of  Cherry  and  pitched  down  on  the  deepo 
platform  on  her  knees.  "Don't  hang  him, 
sir!"  she  groaned  out.  "Spare  him  to  me, 
and  to  our  dear  little  girls  who  love  him  with 
all  their  little  hearts!  Oh,  sir,  say  that  he 
shall  be  saved!" 

"Get  up,  ma'am,  please,"  Cherry  said, 
looking  as  worried  as  he  could  look.  "  That's 
no  sort  of  a  way  for  a  lady  to  do!  Please 
get  up  right  away." 

"Never!  Never!"  she  said.  "Never  till 
you  promise  me  that  the  life  of  my  dear 
husband  shall  be  spared!" — and  she  grabbed 
Cherry  round  the  knees  and  groaned  dread 
ful.  He  really  was  the  most  awkward-look 
ing  man,  with  her  holding  onto  his  legs  that 
way,  you  ever  seen! 

224 


DON'T  HANG  HIM,  SIR!'  SHE  GROANED  OUT 


The   Purification  of   Palomitas 

"Oh,  Lord,  ma'am,  do  get  up!"  he  said. 
"Having  you  like  that  for  another  minute  '11 
make  me  sick.  I'm  not  used  to  such  goings- 
on" — and  Cherry  did  what  he  could  to  work 
loose  his  legs. 

But  she  hung  on  so  tight  he  couldn't  shake 
her,  and  kept  saying,  "  Save  him!  Save  himi" 
and  uttering  groans. 

Cherry  wriggled  his  legs  as  much  as  he 
could  and  looked  around  at  the  boys.  They 
all  was  badly  broke  up,  and  anybody  could 
see  they  was  weakening.  "Shall  we  let  up 
on  Santa  Fe"  this  time?"  he  asked.  "I  guess 
it's  true  he  didn't  more'n  half  mean,  being 
drunk  the  way  he  was,  to  shoot  Bill — and  it 
makes  things  different,  anyway,  knowing  he's 
got  kids  and  a  wife.  Bill  himself  would  be 
the  first  to  allow  that.  Bill  was  as  kind- 
hearted  a  man  as  ever  lived.  Do  please, 
ma'am,  let  go." 

Nobody  spoke  for  .a  minute — but  it  was 
plain  how  the  tide  was  setting — and  then 
Santa  Fe  himself  chipped  in.  "Gentlemen," 
he  said,  "you  all  know  I've  faced  this  music 
from  the  first  without  any  squirming,  and 
225 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

even  come  into  Joe  Cherry's  plan  for  making 
me  do  circus  stunts  at  the  funeral  for  the 
good  of  the  town.  I'm  ready  to  go  through 
the  whole  fool  business  right  now,  and  come 
back  here  when  it's  all  over  and  be  hung  ac 
cording  to  contract — " 

"Save  him!  Save  him!"  the  woman  sung 
out;  and  she  give  such  a  jerk  to  Cherry's 
legs  it  come  close  to  spilling  him. 

"But  I  will  say  this  much,  gentlemen," 
Santa  ¥6  went  on:  "I  am  willing  to  ask  for 
the  sake  of  my  dear  wife  and  helpless  inno 
cent  infants  what  I  wouldn't  be  low  down 
enough  to  ask  for  myself — and  that  is  that 
you  call  this  game  off.  This  dreadful  expe 
rience  has  changed  me,  gentlemen.  It  has 
changed  me  right  down  to  my  toes.  Being 
as  close  to  a  telegraph-pole  as  I  am  now 
makes  a  man  want  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf 
and  behave — as  some  of  you  like  enough  '11 
find  out  for  yourselves  if  you  don't  draw 
cards  from  my  awful  example  and  brace  up 
all  you  know  how.  Give  me  another  show, 
gentlemen.  That's  what  I  ask  for — give  me 
another  show.  Let  me  go  home  with  my 
226 


The    Purification   of    Palomitas 

angel  wife  to  the  dear  old  farm  in  Ohio,  where 
my  aged  mother  and  my  sweet  babes  are 
waiting  for  me.  Like  enough  they're  stand 
ing  out  by  the  old  well  in  the  front  yard  look 
ing  down  the  road  for  me  now!"  Santa  F6 
gagged  so  he  couldn't  go  on  for  a  minute. 
But  he  pulled  himself  together  and  finished 
with  his  chest  out  and  his  chin  up  and  speak 
ing  firm.  "Let  me  go  home,  I  say,  to  the 
old  farm  and  my  dear  ones — and  take  a 
fresh  start  at  leading  bravely  the  honest  life 
of  an  honest  man!" 

Then  he  lowered  down  his  chin  and  took 
his  chest  in  and  said,  sort  of  soft  and  gentle: 
"Let  go  of  Mr.  Cherry's  legs  and  come  and 
kiss  me,  my  darling!  And  please  wipe  the 
tears  from  my  eyes — with  my  poor  shackled 
hands  I  can't!" 

The  woman  give  Cherry's  legs  one  more 
rousing  jerk,  and  said,  sort  of  imploring: 
"Save  him!  Save  him  for  his  old  mother's 
sake,  and  for  mine,  and  for  the  sake  of  our 
little  girls!"  Then  she  got  up  and  wiped 
away  at  Santa  F6's  eyes  with  her  pocket- 
handkerchief,  and  went  to  kissing  him  for 
227 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

all  she  was  worth — holding  on  to  him  tight 
around  the  neck  with  both  arms. 

The  boys  was  all  as  uncomfortable  as  they 
could  be — except  Cherry  seemed  to  feel  bet 
ter  at  getting  his  legs  loose — and  some  of  'em 
fairly  snuffled  out  loud.  They  stood  around 
looking  at  each  other,  and  nobody  said  a 
word.  Then  Santa  Fe  kind  of  wrenched 
loose  from  her  kissing  him  and  spoke  up. 
"Which  is  it  to  be,  gentlemen?"  he  said. 
"Is  it  the  telegraph-pole — or  is  it  another 
chance?"  The  woman  moaned  fit  to  break 
her  heart. 

The  silence,  except  for  her  moaning,  hung 
on  for  a  good  minute.  Then  Hill  broke  it. 
"Oh,  damn  it  all!"  said  Hill— it  was  Hill's 
way  to  talk  sort  of  careless — "Give  him  an 
other  chance!" 

That  settled  things.  In  another  minute 
they  had  the  handcuffs  off  of  Santa  F6  and 
all  the  boys  was  shaking  hands  with  him. 
And  then  they  was  asking  to  be  introduced 
to  his  wife — she  was  all  broke  to  bits,  and 
crying,  and  kept  her  veil  down — and  shaking 
hands  with  her  too;  and  they  ended  off  by 
228 


The   Purification   of   Palomitas 

giving  Charley  and  his  wife  three  cheers 
You  never  seen  folks  so  pleased!  The  only 
one  out  of  it  was  the  Denver  undertaker — 
who  couldn't  be  expected  to  feel  like  the 
rest  of  us;  and  was  in  a  hurry,  anyway,  to 
put  through  his  job  so  he  could  start  back 
home  on  the  night  train. 

"You  come  along  with  me  in  the  coach, 
Charley, "  Hill  said — Hill  always  was  a  friend 
ly  sort  of  a  fellow — "and  I'll  jerk  you  over 
to  Santa  F6  in  no  time,  and  you  can  start 
right  off  East  by  the  6.30  train.  That  '11  be 
quicker'n  going  up  to  Pueblo,  and  it  '11  be 
cheaper  too.  The  ride  across  sha'n  t  cost 
you  a  cent.  If  you  and  your  lady  come  in 
my  coach,  you  come  free.  And  I  say,  boys," 
Hill  went  on,  "let's  open  a  pot  for  them  little 
girls!  Here's  my  hat,  with  ten  dollars  in  it 
for  a  warmer.  I'd  make  it  more  if  I  could — 
and  nobody  '11  hurt  my  feelings  by  raising  my 
call." 

All  hands  made  a  rush  for  Hill's  hat— and 

when  Hill  handed  it  to  that  poor  woman. 

who  had  her  pocket-handkerchief  up  to  her 

eyes  under  her  veil  and  was  crying  so  she 

229 


Santa    Fe's  Partner 

shook  all  over,  there  was  more'n  two  htin- 
derd  dollars  in  it,  mostly  gold.  "This  is  for 
them  children,  ma'am,  with  all  our  compli 
ments,*'  Hill  said — and  he  and  Charley  helped 
her  hold  her  shawl  up,  so  it  made  a  kind  of 
a  bag,  while  he  turned  his  hat  upside-down. 

"  Speaking  for  my  dear  little  girls,  I  thank 
you  from  my  heart,  gentlemen,"  Santa  Fe* 
said.  "  This  is  a  royal  gift,  and  it  comes  at  a 
mighty  good  time.  Some  part  of  it  must  be 
used  to  pay  our  way  East — back  to  the  dear 
old  home,  where  those  little  angels  are  wait 
ing  for  us  sitting  cuddled  up  on  their  grand 
mother's  knees.  What  remains,  I  promise 
you  gentlemen,  shall  be  a  sacred  deposit — to 
be  used  in  buying  little  dresses,  and  hats,  and 
things,  for  my  sweet  babes.  I  hate  to  use  a 
single  cent  of  it  for  anything  else,  but  the 
fact  is  just  now  I'm  right  down  to  the  hard- 
pan."  And  everybody — remembering  Santa 
F6'd  took  advantage  of  being  on  his  drunk 
to  get  cleaned  out  at  Denver  Jones's  place 
the  night  before  the  shooting — knowed  this 
was  true. 

"  Well,  Charley,  we  must  be  andying  along," 


The    Purification   of    Palomitas 

Hill  said.  "Waiting  here  to  see  you  hung 
has  put  me  more'n  an  hour  behind  on  my 
schedule.  I'll  have  to  hustle  them  mules  like 
hell" — that  was  the  careless  way  Hill  talked 
always — "if  we're  going  to  ketch  that  6.30 
train." 

Everybody  shook  hands  for  good-bye  with 
Santa  Fe*  and  his  wife,  and  Santa  F6  had  his 
pockets  stuffed  full  of  seegars,  and  more 
bottles  was  put  in  the  coach  than  was  needed 
— and  then  we  give  'em  three  cheers  again, 
and  away  they  went  down  the  slope  to  the 
bridge  over  the  Rio  Grande,  with  Hill  whip 
ping  away  for  all  he  was  worth  and  cussing 
terrible  at  his  mules.  Whipping  done  some 
good,  Hill  used  to  say ;  but  cuss-words  was 
the  only  sure  things  to  make  mules  go. 

"Well,  boys,"  said  Cherry,  when  the  yell 
ing  let  up  a  little.  "  I  guess  getting  shut  of 
Santa  Fe*  that  way  is  better'n  hanging  him; 
and  I  guess — with  him  and  the  Hen  and  the 
rest  of  'em  fired  out  of  it — we've  got  Palomitas 
purified  about  down  to  the  ground.  And 
what's  to  all  our  credits,  we've  ended  off 
by  doing  a  first-class  good  deed  I  Them 
23* 


Santa    Fe's   Partner 

little  girls  '11  be  pleased  and  happy  when 
their  mother  gets  back  to  'em  with  our  money 
in  her  pocket,  and  brings  along  in  good  shape 
their  father  —  who'd  just  about  be  in  the 
thick  of  his  kicking  on  that  telegraph-pole, 
by  this  time,  if  she  hadn't  romped  in  the 
way  she  did  on  the  closest  kind  of  a  close 
callj 

"And  now  let's  turn  to  and  get  poor  old 
Bill  planted.  We've  kind  of  lost  sight  of 
Bill  in  the  excitement — and  we  owe  him  a 
good  deal.  If  Santa  Fe*  hadn't  started  the 
reform  movement  by  shooting  him,  we'd  still 
be  going  on  in  the  same  old  way.  You  may 
say  it's  all  Bill's  doings  that  Palomitas  has 
been  give  the  clean-up  it  wanted,  and  wanted 
bad!" 

When  Hill  drove  into  town  next  afternoon 
— coming  to  the  deepo,  where  most  of  the 
boys  was  setting  around  waiting  for  the  train 
to  pull  out — he  was  laughing  so  he  was  most 
tumbling  off  the  box. 

"I've  got  the  damnedest  biggest  joke  on 
this  town,"  Hill  said— Hill  had  the  habit  of 
232 


The  Purification   of    Palomitas 

talking  that  offhand  way — "that  ever  was 
got  on  a  town  since  towns  begun!" 

Hill  was  so  full  of  it  he  couldn't  hold  in  to 
make  a  story.  He  just  went  right  on  blurting 
it  out:  "Do  you  boys  know  who  that  wife 
of  Charley's  was  that  blew  in  yesterday  from 
Denver?  I  guess  you  don't!  Well,  /  do — 
she  was  the  Sage-Brush  Hen!  Yes  sirree," 
Hill  said,  so  full  of  laugh  he  couldn't  hardly 
talk  plain;  "that's  just  who  she  was!  All 
along  from  the  first  there  was  something 
about  her  shape  I  felt  I  ought  to  know,  and  I 
was  dead  right.  It  come  out  while  we  was 
stopping  at  Bouquet's  place  at  Pojuaque  for 
dinner — they  both  knowing  I'd  see  it  was  such 
a  joke  I  wouldn't  spoil  it  by  giving  it  away 
too  soon.  She  went  in  the  back  room  at 
Bouquet's  to  have  a  wash  and  a  brush  up— 
and  when  she  come  along  to  table  she'd 
got  over  being  Charley's  wife  and  was  the 
Hen  as  good  as  you  please!  She  hadn't  a 
gray  hair  or  a  wrinkle  left  nowhere,  and  was 
like  she  always  was  except  for  her  black 
clothes.  When  she  saw  my  looks  at  seeing 
her,  she  got  to  laughing  fit  to  kill  herself — 
233 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

just  the  same  gay  old  Hen  as  ever;  and  she 
always  was,  you  know,  the  most  comical- 
acting  sort  of  a  woman,  when  she  wanted 
to  be,  anybody  ever  seen. 

"When  she  quieted  down  her  laughing  a 
little  she  told  me  the  whole  story.  She  and 
Charley'd  fixed  it  up  between  'em,  she  said ; 
and  she'd  whipped  up  to  Denver  on  one  train 
and  down  again  on  the  next — buying  quick 
her  gray  hair  and  her  black  outfit,  and  getting 
somebody  she  knowed  at  the  Denver  theatre 
to  fix  her  face  for  her  so  she'd  look  all  broke 
up  and  old.  She  nearly  gave  the  whole  thing 
away,  she  said,  when  Charley  asked  her  about 
the  little  girls.  He  just  throwed  that  in,  with 
out  her  expecting  it — and  it  set  her  to  laugh 
ing  and  shaking  so,  back  of  her  veil,  that 
we'd  a-ketched  up  with  her  sure,  she  said, 
if  Charley  hadn't  whispered  quick  to  pretend 
to  cry  and  carry  off  her  laughing  that  way. 
She  had  another  close  call,  she  said,  when 
Charley  was  talking  about  the  old  farm  in 
Ohio — she  all  the  time  knowing  for  a  fact 
he  was  born  in  East  St.  Louis,  and  hadn't 
any  better  acquaintance  with  Ohio  than  three 
234 


The   Purification    of    Palomitas 

months  in  the  Cincinnati  jail.  Charley 
ought  to  go  on  the  stage,  she  says — where 
she's  been  herself.  She  says  he'd  lay  Forrest 
and  Booth  and  all  them  fellows  out  cold! 

"  She  and  Charley  just  yelled  while  she  was 
telling  it  all  to  me;  and  they  was  laughing 
'emselves  'most  sick  all  the  rest  of  the  way 
across  to  Santa  F6.  When  we  got  into  town 
I  drove  'em  to  the  Fonda ;  and  then  the  Hen 
rigged  herself  out  in  good  clothes  she  bought 
at  Morse's — it  was  the  pot  wre  made  up  for 
them  sweet  babes  paid  for  her  outfit — and 
give  her  old  black  duds  to  one  of  the  Mexican 
chambermaids.  They  allowed  —  knowing  I 
could  be  trusted  not  to  go  around  talking  in 
Santa  F6— they'd  stay  on  at  the  Fonda  till 
to-morrow,  anyway:  so  I  might  let  'em  know, 
when  I  get  back  again,  how  you  boys  took  it 
when  you  was  told  how  they'd  played  it  on 
you  right  smack  down  to  the  ground! 

14  Charley  sent  word  he  hoped  there  wouldn't 
be  no  hard  feeling — as  there  oughtn't  to  be, 
he  said,  seeing  he  was  so  drunk  when  he  shot 
Bill  it  was  just  an  accident  not  calling  for 
hanging;  and  the  whole  thing,  anyways,  being 
235 


Santa    Fe's    Partner 

all  among  friends.  And  the  Hen  sent  word 
she  guessed  the  two  of  'em  had  give  you  a 
first -class  theatre  show  worth  more'n  you 
put  in  my  hat  for  gate-money,  and  you  all 
ought  to  be  pleased.  And  they  both  said 
they'd  been  treated  so  square  by  you  fellows 
they'd  be  real  sorry  to  have  any  misunder 
standing,  and  they  hoped  you'd  take  the 
joke  friendly — the  same  as  they  meant  it 
themselves." 

Well,  of  course  we  all  did  take  it  friendly — 
it  wouldn't  a-been  sensible  to  take  as  good  a 
joke  as  that  was  any  other  way.  Cherry  was 
the  only  one  that  squirmed  a  little,  "  It's  on 
us,  and  it's  on  us  good,"  Cherry  said;  "and 
I'm  not  kicking — only  you  boys  haven't  got 
no  notion  what  it  is  having  a  woman  a- 
grabbing  fast  to  your  legs  and  groaning  at 
you,  and  how  dead  sick  it  makes  you  feel!" 

Cherry  stopped  for  a  minute,  and  looked  as 
if  he  was  a 'most  sick  with  just  thinking  about 
it.  Then  he  sort  of  shook  himself  and  got  a 
brace  on,  and  went  ahead  with  his  chin  up 
like  he  was  making  a  speech  in  town-meeting 
236 


The   Purification  of   Paiomitas 

— and  it  turned  out,  as  it  don't  always  in 
town-meeting  speeches,  what  he  said  was 
true. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Cherry,  "there's  this 
to  be  said,  and  we  have  a  right  to  say  it 
proudly:  we've  give  this  town  the  clean-up 
we  set  out  to  give  it,  and  from  now  on  it's 
going  to  stay  clean.  There  won't  be  any 
more  doings;  or,  if  there  is,  the  Committee 
'11  know  the  reason  why.  Paiomitas  is  puri 
fied,  gentlemen,  right  down  to  the  roots ;  and 
I  reckon  I'm  mistook  bad — worse 'n  I  was 
when  the  Hen  was  yanking  my  legs  about — 
if  the  Committee  hasn't  sand  enough  and 
rope  enough  to  keep  on  keeping  it  pure!" 


THE    END 


'SH 


4617^6 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


